Trigun Magnum
by NeoShinigamiSama
Summary: Twenty years after Vash the Stampede vanished, he's appeared again, only to be greeted by an even greater bounty on his head. However, something is different about the Humanoid Typhoon... Reviews are Welcome
1. The 100 Billion Dollar Man Issue 1

The soft music from the old record player was most of what kept the odd silence in the bar at bay. Seated by himself, holding a glass of Scotch, was a young man in a very stylized red Duster coat. His eyes were covered by the sunglasses that rested on his face, lenses mirrored and golden while the frames were black, sleek and shiny. His spiked blonde hair came around his face, short, but with enough length to be weighed down. Three thin red scars came down over the left side of his face, almost like cat's whiskers.

The other occupents of the bar were few in number; the owner and bartender behind the counter, who was a portly man with short hair and a thick brown mustache, and two men who were playing poker and a nearby table. Not much was said while those two payed attention to their game and nothing else. And so, the only real sound to be heard was the old tinsel music from the record player.

"Hey," one of the poker players said after glancing to his friend. "Did you hear what happened in Valentine City two weeks ago? The whole place got destroyed like a storm tore through."

The bigger man nodded. "Heard about that. They say that it was Vash the Stampede, showing up again after he vanished about twenty years ago." He paused for a moment, taking the chance to look at his cards, then examined his friend's face for any sign of clues to the hand he was facing. "Makes you wonder how someone could live that long, especially with that old sixty billion double-dollar price on his head."

The smaller man, who had a weasely appearence to his features, grinned and nodded. "Yeah, except that it's not sixty billion anymore." He shifted one of his cards, then smiled while sparing a look to the barkeep, who was carrying a large metal keg to a far corner of the room. "They raised the price to a hundred billion double-dollars."

There was a whistle from the larger man. That figure of numbers did impress him. "You'd have to be an idiot to seriously go after a guy like that alone though," he remarked, moving a couple of his cards around to better set up his hand. "He ain't called the Humanoid Typhoon for nothing, after all."

From his seat in the corner, the young blonde gave a soft laugh and sipped down his drink. It did amuse him, actually, to listen to stories like this. Talk of the legendary Vash the Stampede, the most feared man on Gunsmoke, had been around on this world for a very long time. If there was a story about the Humanoid Typhoon, he'd heard it, and knew which were true, and which were just total fabrication. "Never fails to amaze me," he muttered to himself. "People going all crazy over some story that's half a lie."

The two men glanced over at the blonde. "You know something about all this?" the weasely man said, his eyes narrowed a bit as he looked the young man over. "I don't see how anything said about Vash the Stampede could be a lie. He's a walking slaughter waiting to happen."

"Have you ever met him?"

The question took the two men by surprise. It wasn't something one expected to hear in regards to Vash the Stampede, because no one wanted to meet the infamous Humanoid Typhoon. But then, who was this person to say such thing? "Have you?"

Again, the young man laughed softly before draining down the rest of his drink. He set the glass on the counter, then sighed, but was smiling. "You might say that," he said after a moment. His head tilted slightly to his left, like he was listening for something. "But all I'm saying is that everything about Vash can't be true. Afterall..." He paused, standing up from the bar stool he'd been on and cracking his neck. "If everything were true, then he'd have to be well over a hundred years old, and have killed just about every person who did run across him. Since there are people who tell tales about him, obviously such is not true."

He headed for the door, not bothering too look at the confused expressions on the faces of those two men who sat at the table. He paused at the doorway, then, slipping a coin out of his pocket, flicked it with his thumb and landed it perfectly in the small tin can that served as the tips holder. "By the way," he said as he glanced out the swinging saloon style doors. "You all might want to get out of here before those guys outside open fire."

"What the-"

That sentence never finished as the numerous reports of over a dozen automatic fire weapons went off. Rounds split through the air, tearing into the building while the bartender and the two poker players dove for cover. The three men covered their ears as they hid behind the bar, but the young man who had warned them didn't even make any attempt to move.

A couple minutes later, the assualt ended, and there were some laughs from the well armed group who had unleashed the barrage. Their target was no doubt riddled with bullets, either dead or dying in a bloody heap, but most definitely recognizable once recovered.

But, as the smoke and dust cleared, the group of armed men gasped in shock to see that young blonde still standing right there at the doorway, not a mark on him and exactly where he had stopped. It was, by all means, impossible, because he was right in the line of fire. But he was untouched, perfectly fine, and not even the bangs of his hair had moved. The only thing that had been disrupted were his sunglasses, which had slipped down the bridge of his nose a bit.

With a sigh, the young man reached up and, pressing with two fingers, slid the sunglasses back into place snug against his face. "I really hate it when people do that," he muttered, though his voice seemed to carry little trace of real concern for his situation. He brought his gaze up toward the group of gunmen, making a quick count. "Sixteen of you to one of me," he said after but a second of calculations. "I swear, this isn't fair." He smiled. "But, why so concerned with simple little me?"

"Cut the crap!" came the yell from the large man who was obviously the leader of this group. He was tall, around eight to eight and a half feet tall, and very robust. His spiky black hair cropped up like spines, and there was a large cybernetic attachment where his right arm should have been, as well as pieces of machinery on parts of his legs. His left eye was replaced by a lense piece of some sort, noting where he'd lost his eye in some event long ago.

The young blonde smiled faintly. "So, why after me?" he asked again. "Am I so special to deserve this attention? You ruined a respectable business just to find me, so I'd like to know why."

The large man growled, not very amused at how nonchalant their target was acting. "You've got a rather large price on your head!" he shouted back at the blonde man. "And you have the nerve to ask why we're after you, Vash the Stampede!"

His expression dropped slightly. "Man, I was hoping they wouldn't figure me out," he muttered with a tone of disappointment. "Bad enough I stand out in a crowd already, do they have to announce to the world who I am?" He sighed, then snapped his arms down. The quick and sharp movement caused a pair of highly customized revolvers to slide out of his sleeves and in to his hands. One was a bright silver, shining in the sunlight, while the other, in his left hand, was a shiny black gun, an identical twin to the gun in his right hand. "If you believe even half the stories they say about me," he called out to the group at large, "then you do know that I could kill you all in the blink of an eye!"

"We've got you outgunned and outnumbered!" one of the gunman yelled out. His voice definitly was confident. "I'd say you're the one who's screwed here, Vash the Stampede!"

The blonde sighed. It was obvious in his face, even with the sunglasses over his eyes, that he was greatly disappointed. "When will you people ever learn?" he muttered half a second before his right hand brought its gun up and fired. The motion was so quick, the man who had been taunting him didn't even have time to blink before his own weapon went flying from his hand as a result of the shot. The blonde's other gun came up an instant later, letting his opponents know that he was no one to take lightly. "I suggest you all turn around and forget you ever saw me!" he stated coldly. "All the ammo you let off, and not even one scratch on me, so how good do you think it's gonn'a do you when I'm firing back!"

They stepped back as a collective group. They had all, of course, heard the stories, but to actually see the legendary Humanoid Typhoon in action was something they'd not been prepared for. They had been counting on the advantage of surprise to kill him with the rounds of ammunition they had let off, but when that failed, numbers had been their next hope. If he could move that fast and shoot the weapons out of their hands, then his ability to aim was better than any other gunman on the planet.

"So how 'bout it!" he called out. "Wann'a keep trying your luck against the Humanoid Typhoon!"

The leader of the group snarled. "He's only got eleven shots!" he cried to his gang as he raised his own machine gun up high. "He can't kill us all on his-"

A second shot, then his scream as he dropped his weapon and grabbed his now bleeding left hand where the bullet had punctured clean through. The black revolver was now discharging smoke from the barrel, and with a sigh, Vash lifted his guns upward to aim at the sky, but still ready to snap back into action. "I'm good enough to hold off worse than you guys," he said tauntingly to his foes. "I don't have to kill you all, just make sure you don't come after me."

He was still screaming in pain, his wound bleeding profusly, but the large man finally turned and stared at the man known as Vash the Stampede. "What the hell are you all standing around for!" he roared angrily to his men. "There's sixteen of us, and he only has ten bullets left! Shot him already!"

Vash arced an eyebrow up as the men he faced readied their own firearms. He wasn't sure if he should be impressed or amused by the scene. "Didn't expect that," he muttered just seconds before the rounds fired.

* * *

**Florantine City**

The secretary was typing away while a young woman waited nervously outside the office door, seated in a plush chair that was actually quite comfortable. She wasn't sure why she'd been called to have a meeting with Old Man Verandil, but it surly wasn't something bad. Her five year record was rather spotless, she'd earned many commondations, and she was the top of her class back in the academy. The only explination was some really big case that she was going to be assigned to.

The Verandil Investigation Agency was one of the most well known private security companies on Gunsmoke. They actually tended to do a lot of work in conjunction with the Bernardeli Insurance Society, especially in the last few years. While Bernadeli handled the insurance claims and smoothing out of compansations, Verandil was the one that actively went after the source of the problems. And for Annette Mallard, it was the best place to put her talents and education to use.

The secretary paid little attention to the young woman, and the silence which was only broken by the clicking of the typewriter was nerve-racking. She'd been waiting here for almost an hour now. What was talking the Old Man so long? He'd called her up to his office on such short notice, and after she'd just gotten back last night from August City.

The door finally opened, and Terrence Verandil ushered Annette in before closing the door behind her. "Sorry for the lack of rest after your last assignment," he said before taking his seat behind the old fashion wooden desk. "But this came up and I figured that you were the best person to handle the case."

There was a sigh of relief as Annette smiled. "I was half-afraid that I was getting laid off or something," she replied before falling back into one of the chairs in the room. "So, what's this big assignment that you want me to handle? More of the Graymare Gang stirring up trouble over in New July City?"

Verandil sighed while picking up a folder that had been laying on his desk. "I only wish," he said before handing it out to the woman. As she carely took it, he leaned back into his own chair, giving her a worried expression. "This is a very unusual and important case, Annie. Bernardeli was offered it first, but they passed it off to us considering their luck the last time they sent a pair of agents to investigate."

She flipped through the contents of the folder, then, finally reading the case that had been dropped into her lap, went wide-eyed as she read the notes and details of the problem. "You've got to be kidding me," she whispered just before looking up to her employer. "Vash the Stampede! You're giving me the Humanoid Typhoon case!"

With a nod, Verandil turned half-way in his chair and looked out the window. "It's been over twenty years since he vanished, only to reappear now." A pause. "Valentine City is in ruins, yet the strange thing is that there wasn't a single death from the disaster." He glanced back at Annette, his eyes filled with both determination and confusion. "I want you to look into it, see if this is in fact the real deal come back after missing for over two decade. If it is, keep a full time watch on him."

"And if it's like all the others?"

The man chuckled. There had been plenty of "sightings" over the years, all of which had proven to be frauds and hoaxes, some even bandit gangs trying to make their jobs easier by claiming to be led by the infamous Humanoid Typhoon. But if this was the real deal, then they had to be the first ones to find him. "If it's a fake, handle the situation. But this might be the real thing, if witness accounts are right." He smiled faintly for a moment. "Tall man with spiky hair, dressed in a red coat, and eyes like the Devil."

Yes, that sounded like the genuine description of Vash the Stampede all right. Infamous for the disaster in old July City over four decades ago, he'd been hunted by mercenaries, federal agents, and anyone with half-a-brain and a gun for that enormous sixty billion double-dollar bounty on his head, only for the Humanoid Typhoon to vanish twenty years ago. Most claims of having seen him since turned out to be frauds, but this sounded like the real thing. A city in ruins, yet no casualties. As the saying went, it was like you didn't need God for a miracle.

Wait...they had almost _doubled_ the bounty on his head to one hundred billion! No wonder Verandil was sending an investigator; no one would be able to resist that price! But why her? Surely this would be better in the hands of one of the more experiences members of the company. Or maybe Old Man Verandil had that much faith in her after all. Either way, she had first shot at the case of a lifetime, and she was not about to let it go. "When do I leave?" she asked as she put the contents of the folder in order and held it tightly. "And where do I go?"

He smiled. "That's the spirit," Verandil quipped while he rose from his seat. "I've got you a ticket on the sand steamer out to Dankin, that's the last place he was spotted. You leave in two hours."

With an expression of joy on her face, Annette Mallard nodded quickly, then headed out of the office as fast as possible so she could pack and get everything she needed. Dankin Town was only a few hours away by sand steamer, so with any luck, she's get there and find the infamous Vash before anyone could claim that damn bounty.

* * *

Out in the sands near Dankin Town, the gang of mercenaries combed about for any sign of their quarry. So far, he'd eluded them for almost two hours since the gunfight at the bar.

The leader of them, the large man with the mechanical limb, growled while looking once more at the bullet wound in his organic right hand. The shot had punched clean through, and they'd stopped the bleeding, but it would be forever before his hand healed enough to be usable. "I can't believe he pulled that off, the bastard!"

"Boss, are you sure it's the right guy?" one of his compatriots remarked while lighting up a cigarette. "I mean, if he really was Vash the Stampede, he could have slaughtered us before we got off a shot." He waved the match to put it out, then took a deep drag from his cigarette before sighing and letting the smoke out. "There's no way it's the right guy, he's not even tall enough."

"Hey!" came the angry yell from his leader. "You saw what he looked like! Blonde hair, red coat, and eyes like the Devil!" Granted, on the last part, it was unconfirmed because their target was wearing mirror lens sunglasses, but there was little doubt as to why he wore those. Plus, the way those things reflected in the light did give him the appearence of having the Devil's eyes. "And a big handgun! That is him, and we're going to get that damn reward even if we have to kill him!"

The smoking man nodded, but something still bothered him. "I know, but, isn't he supposed to be really tall like you? That guy doesn't look much taller than some teenager off the street."

The large man grunted and looked out into the deserts. Yes, the rumors said that Vash was a very tall man, well over six feet, and their target was definitely less than that. He attributed that to faulty information, however. Everything else fit, including that damn revolver which had blown a nice sized hole in his hand.

The man who was still smoking shrugged. "I still dun'no, boss. Yeah, he didn't even take a hit, but if he's really Vash, then why didn't he just kill us and be done with it?"

"Because obviously he's not exactly all he's hyped up to be!" The large man reached over and grabbed him henchman by the head with his mechanical limb to lift him up. "If there's something I've learned about rumors, Hybird, it's that you don't take everything for the word!" He then tossed the man back to the ground, growling as he looked out into the desert. "He's out there, somewhere, and we're gonn'a catch him!"

* * *

One of the other members of the mercenary gang breathed nervously as he walked through the sands alone, his six-shooter revolver at the ready. He never should have gone our here without immediate backup, considering just how dangerous Vash the Stampede was supposed to be. But, so far, while he'd proven able to dodge bullets and have pinpoint accuracy with a gun, he'd not killed any of them.

But then what was he trying to do, running out here into the desert near Dankin? Did the rock formations make such great hiding places?

Just as the man walked past a lump of sand with a stick coming out, a hand shot up from the mound and grabbed him by the leg. The young blonde man from the bar came bursting up, gasping for air while the bounty hunter crashed to the ground. "God, I thought I was gonn'a suffocate under there!" he exclaimed, spitting out the stick that was actually a plastic straw he had been using to breath through under the sand.

"It's Va-" _Crack!_

"Thank you for shutting up," the blonde stated sarcastically as the bounty hunter fell face first into the sand, out cold from the blow. Vash quickly turned him over so that he wouldn't smother in the sand, then started going through his vest and belt for ammunition. "It's a friggin' miracle I pulled that off," he muttered while getting out his own twin revolvers for reloading. He paused a moment, glancing to the black gun, then sighed and just took the whole ammo belt. "I need to get you guys fixed up into autos. Six-shooters ain't gonn'a help when I need to least convince these guys to leave me alone."

He thought back to the bar, when the group of bounty hunters had opened full fire on him a second time. This being after he'd shot their leader's hand, of course. He'd managed to unload his remaining rounds and disarm some of them, but his guns only held six bullets per weapons, and when he'd used the first two shots to make a point, going up against sixteen men with fully automatic firearms was not the best way to drive them off. But, the old revolvers were friends he wasn't willing to part with at all.

"Hey, boss! I found him, I found Vash!"

His hand grabbed the unconscious mercenary's pistol, and whipping his arm around, Vash sent it flying through the air like a frisbee to slam right into the face of the man who was standing about a fifty yards away. The bounty hunter went falling back as the gun impacted, and Vash allowed himself an arm pump with his success. "Bullseye!" he cried, just before three more men appeared over the bluff to open fire. "Oh, shit!"

He quickly grabbed the man next to him and dove for cover, leaving the unconscious bounty hunter there in safety while he, being the proven genius he was, scrambled to get away even while dodging bullets like mad. Just as one burst almost caught him, Vash dove to the ground, sliding a bit before he vanished behind a rock arch.

"Where the hell did he go!"

"I saw him go behind that arch, someone check it out!"

"Alone! Are you stupid or somethin'!"

His ears kept listening carefully, and eventually, he heard a series of footsteps coming toward his location. "About three or four of them now," he whispered, flipping his guns in his hands so that he was holding them backward. Since the chambers were still empty, he didn't have to worry about accidentally shooting himself. Sometime, he wondered how he came up with these ideas.

The three men came through the arch, and then, he struck. His left hand came out and slammed the handle of the black revolver into one man's chest, then came up to bring it into his chin with a _crack_. That was one more down, and Vash turned about while the other two men stared in shock even while moving to try and capture him. The silver revolver cracked the second man across the face while Vash came around with a kick and caught him in the head and brought him to the ground, while the third man tried to use his own rifle as a blunt weapon. Vash caught the attack with his own revolvers, brought his left leg up hard, and snapped his knee into the last bounty hunter's crotch, which quickly caused him to howl in pain just before he found himself ramming face first into that same knee.

Less than twenty seconds, and Vash was the last man standing with three more of his enemies on the ground. He flipped his guns, caught them by the handles properly, then spun them on his fingers and slipped them into the holsters that stuck out through the flaps of his coat. "The old man's gonn'a hate me for having come up with that one," he muttered while he ran again. He's taken down about a third of his pursuers by now, without a single fatality, thankfully, but he knew that he still had the rest of them to deal with.

This was going to be one interesting day.


	2. The 100 Billion Dollar Man Issue 2

"I hate thomases, they're so smelling and have too much attitude."

Now bound from the sand steamer station into the small town of Dankin, Annette Mallerd, Irregular of the Verandil Investigation Agency, was on her way to hunt down the source of these new Vash the Stampede sightings. It was probably a fraud, but unfortunately, one couldn't take that chance when it was their job to keep a disaster from happening. It could have been worse; she could be working for Bernardeli and dealing with the nightmare that was keeping up on damage claims caused by Vash.

Hopefully, this wasn't yet another wild goose chase.

She brought her thomas to a halt outside a local bar and tied it to the post, breathing with relief that she could get a drink before heading into the nearby crags. As she walked in, a strong stench and the sound of an old honky-tonk piano being played welcomed her. The smell she could do without, but at least the music was bearable. Annette noticed the looks she was getting from the current patrons of the saloon, making sure to keep her hands well tucked into the folds of her brown duster overcoat as she walked up to the bar.

The bartender, a strong man with a pipe in his mouth, gave her a knowing nod. "What can I get you, today?"

"A shot of whiskey, and a canteen of water for the road," she said while carefully keeping her eyes open for trouble. She didn't like some of those leering stares that the men in the bar were giving her. Yes, keep those hands in her coat. If one of them made a move...

"Hey honey. You sure you wouldn't rather have something a little smoother?"

There was idiot number one, right on cue. "And what might you suggest, good sir?" she intoned while keeping her eyes, not on the denizens of the saloon, but on the mirror that was behind the bar. Much better way to see things behind her.

"Well, if you wanted some milk, we'd give you all you want!"

"Although I hate to tell you, but it wouldn't exactly be free!"

_Pigs,_ she growled in her mind. Just as one of them reached out toward her, Annette spun around and pulled her hands from in her coat to reveal two sleek automatics, a pair of custom Eagle 9s, complete with heat sinks on the barrels and what looked like shock absorbers in the grip. "How about a round of hot lead, on me?" she hissed. The man jumped back with shock at how dangerously armed this seemingly fragile girl was. Good, he was backing off, as were his friends. "No? I didn't think so."

Spinning her firearms on her fingers, Annette decided to show up a bit before re-holstering them, letting these men that she was no one to be trifled with, then turned back to the bartender just as he set down a shotglass and poured the Wild Turkey. "Thanks," she remarked while picking up the shot, then snapped her arm to pop a derringer out of her sleeve just as one of those sleeveball drunks tried to sneak up behind her. With the single shot pistol aimed right at his head, she held the shotglass to her lips, looking far too calm for the situation. "Just because they call me Twin-Eagle Annie doesn't mean that the Eagles are all I've got," came her words as the man stood there, frightened stiff. "No, go back to your dirty corner, and forget about trying to get a pretty piece of ass today."

He slowly stepped back, then let out a yell as he ran from the bar. Good, that was one shot she'd have for when she really needed it. Annette gulped down the whiskey, then locked her derringer back in the clasp holder in her sleeve. "That felt good," she muttered while the bartender came over with her canteen filled with fresh water. "Say, I heard that Vash the Stampede was in the area, can you tell me where I might find him?"

"Vash?" the man inquired as he handed her the canteen. "What's a pretty thing like you doing looking for a guy like Vash the Stampede?" he paused for a moment. "Don't tell me you're that crazy one hundred billion double dollar reward."

Eh, not quite, but that money would be damn handy. "Actually, no. I'm on business, but anything that might help me find him would really help."

With a thoughtful sigh, the bartender held his chin for a moment. "Well, mind you, I've not actually gotten a good look, but he came through on his way into the mountain range. He's a mountain of a man, about three, maybe three and a half meters tall, wearing a red coat. He wields a large weapon, has spiky hair, and eyes like the Devil himself."

Yes, that sounded about right. She didn't think he was so tall though, if this was true. But if he was in the Dankin mountain range, then she just might have the break she needed. "That's my target," she muttered while pulling out a pair of double dollar bills. "Keep the change, and thanks for the tip."

With that, she ran out of the saloon, untying her thomas and pulling herself up onto the saddle in a single attempt. With any luck, as she now rode out of the tow an towards the mountains, she find Vash and head off any potential disaster. God knew she didn't want those insurance people breathing down her neck about the paperwork they'd be doing.

"Tall man," she repeated as she and her thomas tore out of the town and into the crags. "Red coat, spiky hair, and eyes of the Devil. That's Vash, alright."

* * *

"Son of a bitch, how does he do this!"

The large man and the rest of his gang had just found the unconscious men who had tangled with their target. If not for the fact that those five men were out cold, he'd be screaming at them right now instead of the rest of his group. "I want his ass now, and I don't care if you bring him back dead or alive!"

"But boss!" that same man from before exclaimed. "If he did this without firing a shot at them, what's he gonn'a do to us!"

Once more, the giant grabbed him henchman by the head and lifted him up to eye level. "Trust me, Hybird," he hissed lowly. "It's nothing compared to what I'll do!" He threw him into the sand, sending him flying for a good four meters before he hit the ground. "Now get out there and find him!"

The man named Hybird nodded rapidly before racing off with a pair of compatriots in search of thair quarry. They all were rather nervous, since a third of their force had been taken down so quickly, and been left alive. But that wasn't the only thing that scared them. There had been a report of sandworms in the area, and while Dankin had defenses against the massive creatures, _they_ didn't. It was a toss up between their boss, Vash, and the fury of nature, and they weren't sure which one would be less painful a way to die.

* * *

From his vantage point, Vash looked down on the men as they searched the crasgs for any sign of him. He tapped the left side of his sunglasses, causing his vision to magnify on the trio that scoured about while numbers ran off calculations of distance in the right side lense. "I'll give them this," he muttered to himself. "They have persistence. I just hope they live to put it to better uses."

He'd come close, a little too close, to accidentally killing someone this time around. He still was running that risk even now, what with the migrating sandworms he'd heard news about. He could probably 'convince' the creatures to leave him be, but for these men who were being driven after him, it was going to be hard.

There. One of them wandered away from the others. He was asking for trouble from the sand dwellers by leaving the company of his fellows. Vash weighed the options in his mind, then sighed and tapped another spot on the left side of his shade to return his view to normal. "You better appriciate this, old man," he muttered, hoping that some how, his actions now would get back to the person in question. "The things I do for you."

Bracing himself, Vash leapt from his perch, bounding across the formations while keeping an eye on the lone wander. He seemed fine for now, and there were signs of the sandworms yet. Maybe they'd gone around the other side of the mountains.

And then, at that moment, an idea struck Vash. He wasn't sure if it was genius or stupidity, but if it worked, it was going to be damn funny. "Alright, guys," he whispered while making his way down to the ground. "Let's play 'Humanoid Typhoon Says'."

"Man, I shouldn't have left the others," the lone man said, his eyes nervously looking about for trouble. If he didn't find his companions soon, he was probably dead, from either Vash or the sandworms. Or, maybe he'd get lucky and actually catch the Humanoid Typhoon. Yeah, that'd be the ticket; catch Vash, and the boss was sure to give him a good cut of the reward money!

Wait, did something just slide down the side of the crags?

"Oh no, I'm a sitting duck over here!" came the voice he recognized as Vash. "What am I going to do!"

He turned and fired, his weapon firing a rapid stream of bullets. There was nothing there, but then, his gun started moving and chiseling a design into the face of the rock. After a moment, the man's eyes went wide as he realized that he had falled for a trap when the design was revealed to be a grinning face; _Vash's_ face. "Shit!"

"Such foul language," Vash remarked, his silver revolver snapping up against the man's head. "I'm sure your mother would be horrified to hear that coming from your mouth." He grinned, noting that this man didn't like the feel of cold steel on the back of his head. "Now, why don't you be a smart boy and drop the gun?"

He gulped. Dead if he did, and dead if he didn't. "_Boss, I found him!_"

That wasn't part of the plan. "Uh, do you mind keeping it down so I don't have to shoot you?" Vash remarked as he pushed his gun a bit harder into the base of the man's skull. "Really, I don't think a large hole in your head is very flattering, and I'm sure it would make your wife and kids very upset for daddy to die."

"I ain't got no kids," he snapped back. "And most women find me damn offensive, so I'm single!"

The things one learned when holding the other guy at gunpoint. Interesting. "But surely, you have some goals to make better of such a lonely life. It would be a shame to have it end out here."

Why the hell hadn't he pulled the trigger already? Did he make it that much of a point to hold off killing people? "Listen you!" he snapped, now taking the risk and turning around to bring his own weapon to aim at Vash. "You have to die! It would make us all real happy!"

His expression became confusion, and then Vash smiled. Damn those sunglasses for constantly shielding his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he said most nonchalantly. "But, I don't do requests like that."

His foot came up and kicked the rifle out of his foe's hand. With his right hand spinning his silver revolver around, Vash pistol whipped the man across the head and knocked him down just as his left hand went up and caught the rifle. "Sleep tight," he whispered while taking out the magazine from the rifle and leaving the firearm itself beside its owner. The clip went into his own coat, along with his revolver, and Vash sighed as he looked around. Those men would be here soon, considering how load the man had bellowed out where he was.

"What would you do in this situation, Old Timer?" he muttered while trying to think of a plan. If he stuck around, they'd catch him, and that didn't sit too well with Vash, not at all. On the other hand, he could take them all out at once if they 'caught' him. Decisions, decisions.

And the rather loud gunshot that ended up tearing a large chunk of rock apart over his head seemed to make the decision for him. "Move, and I blow your pricey head off!" Yeah, that sounded about right. Ill tempered, loud, and bossy. Definitely the leader of this bounty hunter gang.

"Why the hell not," Vash muttered while he raised his hands up, playing along with this psychopath of a mercenary. "Your friend is still alive, he's just gonn'a have one hell of a headache when he wakes up!"

The large man snorted while keeping his weapon trained on Vash. "He's hardly my friend. Our fate is in that we are partners, and nothing more. In fact, my happiness is his happiness."

_And one less person to hand that reward out too, how convenient._ "That's just beautiful," Vash replied sarcastically. "You practice that speech, or did you some how manage to come up with that on the fly?"

"Shut your mouth!" the man roared angrily. "You've cost me a lot already, you snot!"

And such admirable manners too. Yeah, this guy was definitely a grade A example of humanity at its best. Not. "But isn't it worth it for a hundred billion double dollars?" Vash quipped, now sporting a grin. "After all, that could get you not just a new gang, but all your medical bills for your hand, with gobs left over."

"I thought I said to shut your goddamn mouth, you little asshole!"

Vash frowned, though his arms lowered a bit, now just with hands up against his shoulders. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" he sad, not able to quit with the snarky remarks now that he was on a roll. All he had to do was stall for time and...ah, yes, here came more of them. All the better. "I mean, here I am, the infamous and deadly Humanoid Typhoon with a hundred billion big ones on his head, and even I don't need my mouth washed out as much as you. Speaking of washed, yeow. Smells like a pack of thomases keeled over and died over there. When was the last time you had a bath, pal?"

Yeah, now the big guy was getting really angry. Vash smiled to himself, considering how much he couldn't stop when he was running his mouth off like that. Ah, the wonders of a sharp with that refused to not be known. The Old Man was always telling him he had to learn to keep his both yap shut sometimes.

"You think you're funny!" the giant bellowed. He aimed his weapon and fired, blowing a large chunk out of the stone arc over Vash. "Laugh it up now, asshole, if you think you can laugh at getting shot!"

Hm...yeah, this was interesting. Some people just couldn't take a joke. Wait, was that a thomas he heard coming toward them? Who the hell would be coming out here with this insanity going on? Not more bounty hunters after his head.

Now riding up was a blonde girl with sea-green eyes, wearing a tan brown duster coat that has tassles dangling from the full rounding shoulder flap, brown boost and black pants. He couldn't see what kind of shirt she was wearing, but Vash took a stab after noticing the parts that peeked out through the coat sleeves and ventured that it was a white blouse. She dismounted her thomas, glanced at the gang of men surrounding him, then sighed. What, did she expect _four_ giants instead of only one?

"It's about time I found you."

She was adressing the giant. Was she a partner of his? No, from the way he was glaring at her, they had no associations prior to now. So, she wasn't after the price on his head, but then, why was she out here? The sandworms had to have felt all the vibations from that maniac blowing off pieces of the crags, not to mention he probably made a small scale quake every time he took a step.

"Who the hell are you!" the giant snapped. He glanced from the girl to Vash, his gaze one of suspicion. "Are you some friend of his?"

Blink, blink. Well, not that he'd mind knowing her. Vash had to admit, she was pretty cute, but the situation didn't give much chance for introductions. Besides, how does one say "Hi, I'm Vash the Stampede, the Humanoid Typhoon who's got a price of a hundred billion double dollars on his head. I'm also known as a walking Act of God who is he reason for that massive crater in the fifth moon. And you are?" Yeah, that would go over well. She's probably either freak out and run, or pull out a gun and try and take him in for the reward. That would be his luck.

"Never seen him in my life," she replied. "My name is Annette Mallard, I was sent out here by the Verandil Investigation Agency to look into the matter of Vash the Stampede, so you can guess how glad I am to find you."

Wait, why was she talking to the giant like that? Did she think _he_ was who she was looking for! Dear god, hadn't she payed attention to the rumors? Wait, not that Vash thought back, they _did_ all mention him being a very tall man, and wearing his trademark red coat. He supposed that the lard tub did fit a few of those details, but, really. Someone should have told her about how good looking he was. Not to be concited, but, he was a damn sight better looking than this guy.

The giant snorted. Apparently, he was too dense to recognize the mistaken identity. "Why look for me then?" he spat angrily. "You're a little late if you're after the reward, because I'm just about to take this punk to the feds."

Ah, now she was look at him. Good, good. Wait, it was better if she didn't realize he was Vash. But he couldn't let her think that this guy was it. What to do, what to do. what would the Old Man...nah, scratch that. Never think about what that person would do when a pretty woman was involved. Ah well, he'd have to wing it.

"What? You plan to walk up to the feds, who are going to arrest you on sight?" she gave the giant a funny look. "If you're that fixed on turning yourself in then, mind letting me have the cash? I could use a big boost in my paycheck."

One of the men, Hybird, started laughing. "Wait, you think that the boss is Vash! How'd you get that stupid idea!"

That was great. The moron just spoiled it all. Vash made a mental note to beat that guy's head in later when he had a chance. Wait, what was that rumbling sound?

"Because he obviously is!" Annette shouted back.

The giant growled and hefted his rifle onto his shoulder. "Look, missy! I don't know what you're tryin' to pull, but you got your guys mixed up! Vash is a blonde man in a red coat and a big handgun!" So the guy had _two_ of said gun. A minor technicality, faulty rumors was all.

"No he's not! Vash is a giant with spiky hair and a huge weapon!" And eyes of the Devil. This giant didn't fit that description, where as the guy in the red overcoat...well, the way those sunglasses reflected the light, he looked like he had demonic eyes. But that couldn't possibly Vash...could it? "Why the hell aren't the rumors matching up?"

Something was wrong. The ground was rumbling, and the source of it was getting closer. _Oh shit!_ his mind screamed as he realized what it was. Those two didn't have time to argue, not now. He looked around, trying to figure out how to get everyone out of there, and realized it was pointless. He couldn't evacuate everyone, not now that at any minute-

"_Oh my god!_"

Oh yeah. That scream of death signaled it. Seconds later, the ground burst open as a massive creature rose up, dropping chunks of rock and dirt from its body while giving a roar. It had chosen, of all places, to rise up from behind Vash, which meant that he was running while that stone arch he'd been standing under came crashing down.

"Move it!" he cried as he grabbed the girl by the arm and pulled her along. She yelped in surprise, but that was nothing compared to when he heard the giant cocking his gun. His left hand went down and pulled out his black revolver, and he aimed back just as the giant fired. His own gun thundered as he released his own bullet that tore forward and made a perfect deflection shot when both rounds impacted on each other and dropped to the ground.

The giant stared in shock at what he'd just seen. It was impossible, nothing was that precise in aiming, how the hell had Vash done that stunt! "Son of a bitch!" he yelled, now giving chase while his gang ran for their lives and the sandworm tore up the desert. He wasn't going to lose his money, not after all this. His right hand hurt like nobody's business, but he was willing to deal with the pain to kill the little jerk who'd made such a fool of him.

"Hey!" Annette cried while being lead along by this blonde in red who didn't look much older than her. In fact, he looked to be younger. "Who the hell do you think you are, and why were those guys after you!"

He chuckled while holstering his gun. "You heard the fat head," he replied while glancing back to see that the giant was chasing after them. That poor thomas was worm food now, but nothing could be done now. "I'm Vash the Stampede, Humanoid Typhoon, and the guy who's saving your cute little butt from being that thing's afternoon snack!"

A shot rang out, and Vash pulled her to the ground while the bullet flew overhead. As they got back to their feet, Annette stared in shock at this boy. He had to be just a boy, he didn't even look like he was old enough to shave! He couldn't be Vash the Stampede, there was no way he was even remotely old enough to be the Humanoid Typhoon. That could wait though. After all, he _had_ saved her life, even if he had followed up with a crack about her butt. Okay, he'd been complimenting her, but now was neither the time nor the place!

They came to a halt, having reached a dead end at the edge of the plateau. "Just great," he muttered, then turned back around to see that the giant had arrived, weapon aimed. He glanced to Annette, then slid himself in front of her. "Why the hell are you still after me, you idiot! That sandworm is gonn'a be here any minute!"

He pulled the action of his gun. This guy just didn't learn when to quit. "That head of yours is worth more than my men!" he cried. "You may as well go down like a man, Vash!"

Yeah, definitely off his rocker. But unfortunetely, it put this lady in danger as well. Vash growled, grabbed his revolvers, and drew them out, now taking aim at the giant. "You're making a big mistake, pal!" he cried out. "That thing will be here any minute, and then you're lunch, while we get the hell out of here alive!"

The giant grinned. "You're the one who's making the mistake," he spat back. His eyes shifted to look at Annette. "You're a pretty little thing, miss. Too bad you're going to die with him!"

The hammers pulled back. "When I give the word," Vash whispered to her even as the ground began to shake. "Drop and hug the ground." He spread his legs slightly, trying to keep his balance against the growing quake. "Whatever you do, don't get up, until I say so."

"But what about-"

"Now!"

Just as she dropped to the ground, the giant fired his gun, while Vash twisted about and unleashed his own rounds while dropping down. The giant's shot missed completely, while the thunderous reports from Vash's revolvers struck true and tore into the giant's kneecaps.

He screamed out in pain just as he fell down, dropping his weapon and grabbing his knees. The giant wouldn't stop, but his screaming didn't drown out the rumbling sound that now erupts up from the ground as a massive sandworm. It angled its head at the man, opened its maw to roar, then dove down at him.

"Run!" Vash ordered, pulling Annette to her feet and racing for a side trail that led down the mountain while the sandworm came down on the giant and swallowed him whole, ripping into the ground and causing a massive break on the cliffside. He glanced back and saw the entire cliff fall away from the plateau, along with the sandworm which was tumbling down the mountain side. No doubt, the fall was going to kill it, but he was actually much more worried about the city. "She's gonn'a want my ass for this one," he muttered while leading Annette to safety.

* * *

Two days later, Annette sat in a hotel room in Felnarl City, typing up her report. "'As eye-witnessed by this Irregular, the land-slide in Dankin was in fact the result of a sandworm who chased after a band of bounty hunters, and not the actions of Vash the Stampede, who still remains at large. Bernardeli Insurance Society has sent Disaster Investigator Stryfe to handle the claims and sort out compensations for the damages.'"

As she tapped the return key, Annette sighed and slumped over onto the typewriter. "All that, and I didn't even find the real deal," she muttered. After a moment, she blinked. She had found someone who fit _most_ of the rumors, but there was no way it was him. He was way too young, and he most definitely was not the man they said Vash the Stampede was. But, he's seemed incredibly skilled, and he seemed to have the kind of talent that one would expect from the Humanoid Typhoon.

"Gah!" she exclaimed, now leaning back in her chair while glaring at the ceiling in frustration. "All that, and I'm back to square one!"

* * *

"Hey, did you hear about what happened in Dankin?"

"No, what happened?"

"The whole town got torn up, the say Vash the Stampede went through."

"No kidding! So, how many did he get?"

"That's the thing. They say nobody died?"

"You mean like you don't need God for a miracle?"

* * *

And as he walked out into the deserts, the young man named Vash smiled while glancing back at Felnarl. He knew that by now, people were talking all about him, and how no one in Dankin had died. Sometimes he wondered if it was worth it, but, it really was something to fight for. To make sure people, no matter what happened, could be safe in the end. As for that gang of bounty hunters...well, at least they wouldn't be trying to get his head for that damn price he had on him.

Then there was that Annette lady. "She was pretty cute," he said to himself while continuing into the desert. "It might work out. I should have taken her out to dinner for all the trouble she went through." He chuckled. "Next time, my dear Annie. Don't forget me."


	3. The Sand and the Sky Issue 1

The sandworm roared as it tore up from the ground, thrashing about while the group of bounty hunters raced to get away. Bullets fired and bounced off its thick hide, and all it could think was that it was hungry for humans, those annoying little creatures that seemed to be spreading all ove the planet.

About half a mile away, a man with long blue hair smirked while he watched the chaos through a pair of binoculars. "Interesting work, Zazie," he commented before turning toward a young and unearthly beautiful teenage girl who seemed to be concentrating. "It's not much, but we should do the Master proud for taking out such a large group of humans at once."

"And what of Vash?" she asked calmly. "If it is him down there, then Lord Knives won't be happy to hear we killed him."

The blue haired man nodded, but he was still smiling. "If that is Vashu down there, he's changed." His right hand came up to his left arm, rubbing around the middle of his bicep. "It seems he's gotten his arm back, and his hair's changed as well." He frowned and looked through the binoculars, now focusing on Vash's face as he was pulling a blonde girl away from the chaos to safety. "Those aren't the same sunglasses he always wore...and where did he get those scars?"

Something didn't add up to him. Vash was vastly different than how he remembered from when they last encountered each other. And did he ever remember that. He still had coordnation problems even after all the work done to repair his brain damage, and it was a wonder he was able to talk without impediment, save a problem of saying his 'sh'es as 'shu'. It was a bit annoying, but he dealt with it.

Wait, something else was odd. Had Vash gotten _shorter_? He was a man of six and a half feet, yet the Vash he was looking at now was, if he calculated right, no more than maybe five and eight inches. Yes, something was definitely wrong now that he realized that. People like Vash did not _shrink_ in size. How could this be the Humanoid Typhoon? And yet, as he watched, the man found that this red clad young man was every bit as skilled as the Vash he remembered.

And he was actually fighting back with those big guns. The man had to admit, he was starting to have a bit of respect for the talents of this boy, even if he couldn't possibly be Vash the Stampede. He had the skills, that was for sure, and an insane ability in calculations. Wait, did he just shoot down that giant's _bullet_? That was impossible for anyone save for those of Vash's kind. Who was this blonde boy?

"It seems we have something to keep an eye on," he stated before lowering his binoculars and turning to leave. He'd seen enough, and that sandworm was even now tumbling down the mountain side, along with part of the cliff that was crashing toward Dankin as a land slide. "Vashu or not, this boy is someone to keep track of. Let us leave, Zanzi."

"As you wish."

* * *

Two weeks since the incident at Dankin, and Annette Mallard was getting very frustrated. She followed the leads to where Vash was supposed to be, but each time, it actually turned out to be a false alarm. That or some group of maniacs who were actually chasing after the legendary gunman. But she couldn't quit, not since her job was probably on the line. Maybe this is how those two Investigators from Bernardeli felt two decades ago, not to mention how they'd fared as well.

Okay, she had _a_ good lead to go on, but that kid couldn't possible be the real Vash the Stampede. He was far too young, and too short, if she believed that Vash was supposed to be a tall man. Yet, every other point of the rumors fit him perfectly, and at every town Vash had been seen at, he'd passed through, though he was always gone before she got there. Could he possibly be the legendary Humanoid Typhoon?

"No way that's him!" she exclaimed, flopping back into the bed in her room. "He's too nice to be Vash!" And yet, he was incredibly skilled. Either it had been her imagination, or he really had deflected those bullets by shooting them down. No one was that good a marksman, save Vash himself. Even if he wasn't Vash, he seemed to have the skill to warrant having claimed the name. But the question was, why? Why take on that risk, have people going after you for that damn bounty if you didn't have to, if you weren't really Vash?

Or maybe, just maybe, he was the real deal, and some of the rumors had ben corrupted because of all the people who went after him. Certainly, she'd been been given the description of that giant in Dankin instead of the boy, and he had turned out to not be at all the Humanoid Typhoon. The boy, however, matched all the rumors almost perfectly, except, he was nice.

None of it made any sense, but that young man really was her only real lead. Maybe she should at least take him seriously, if only for the fact that he was an insanely god-like gunman. Now the trouble was to find him, and-

"_Oh my god! Vash the Stampede is robbing the armored car!_"

No way. That boy couldn't possibly be doing that. Annette leapt out of bed, threw her coat on, and ran down the stairs to the door of the inn. She poked her head out of the window, but there was no sign of the boy out there among the gang that she saw waiting outside the local bank while a pair of hostages were forced to pile the money into their get-away car. But then why...

"Duh!" she hissed, now racing around to the back of the inn and going out the rear door. It was the oldest standby of robbers and theives, to claim that they were in the company of Vash the Stampede. This was the kind of thing that made her job a living hell; culling out the frauds in attempt to find the real deal. And just when she'd been making some real progress too.

Wait, who was that hiding in the alleyway? Annette took a few steps back to see that familiar red coat and blonde hair. Could it be him? "Vash?"

He held his hand up, signaling for Annette to be quiet. "You've become a believer, I see," he whispered as she walked over and stood next to him. She noticed there was something missing; his guns were missing from his holsters. Was he completely unarmed? "I hate people who do stuff like this, using my name just to make things easier for their thievery."

"So what are you planning?"

A shrug. "Well, plan A is to let myself be taken as a hostage, and take them out that way."

"They'll shoot you before you can get close enough."

He rolled his eyes at having that plan shot down. "Okay, plan B; go in, guns ablazing, and scare the crap out of them that way."

"Not your style, and again, you end up dead on the road."

Tough person to work with she was. "For someone who's accepted that I'm Vash," he said while glancing at her, "you sure have a massive lack of faith."

"I've accepted to call you Vash, not that you're the Humanoid Typhoon himself," Annette chided to correct him. She wasn't completely convinced that he was the real deal. "But I do accept that you've got the skill to warrant the reputation."

Vash gave a smile and looked back at the robbery. "Your confidence is without compare," came his sarcastic reply while he shifted his footing. "How good are you with those Eagles 9s, by the way?"

Blink, Blink. "How did you know about my Eagles?" Annette asked in surprise. "I never told you about them, and I've never shown you I have them."

"I'm that good." Vash grinned. "I actually saw you using them to scare off a couple drunks back in Augusta. I was tempted to say hi and offer you dinner, but you seemed kind'a busy."

Okay, not as creepy as it had at first seemed. Wait, ask her out to dinner? Was he...no, he couldn't be. "Buy me dinner?" she intoned suspiciously while narrowing her eyes. "If I didn't know better, mister, I'd say you were coming onto me."

"Never on the first date," he replied with a mischievous grin that said he'd caught something very wrong with how she'd worded her response. Damn those sunglasses for covering his eyes like that! Did he ever take them off? She'd never even seen his eyes because of those things. "However, I do have more important things to worry about." He grabbed the lid of a nearby trashcan, looked at it, then smirked and headed out of the alley. "Besides, this situation is not equal."

* * *

"Hurry it up!"

Th pair of hostages moved as fast as they could, dumping the last of the money bags into the back of the convertible. They were trembling, sure that with their use to these men done, they were surely going to be shot. "Please, don't kill us," one of the girls begged.

The largest of the robbers grinned and grabbed her by the chin, turning her head forcibly to get a good look at her features. "A couple of pretty girls like you would be a waste to kill. We've got much better uses for you than that."

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing!"

The man turned to see what was bothering his companions. Now walking toward them was a young man in a red coat, but he had a trashcan lid on his head like it was a wide brim hat. "The hell?" he mutterd while cocking his shotgun. "Hey, hold it there, pal!"

The young man came to a stop beside the car. "Me?" he intoned, keeping that lid angled down so that his face was hidden. "Is there some reason I should be worried?"A smirk, and he tapped the heel of his boot to snap a pair of blade out from the toe region that locked together into a knife. With a flick of his foot, he tore open the front tire he was next to, and chuckled when the car sank down on that side. "Whoops, looks like you guys have a flat. Guess you ain't making a get-away in this junk heep."

Yeah, now they were mad. Good, men like them didn't think clearly when angered. "You son of a bitch!" the apparently leader of the gang screamed. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

"Don't you know who this man is!" the large built man said, waving his hand to the weasely looking man. "This here is Vash the Stampede, the Humanoid Typhoon!"

"Funny, I'd heard that Vash was a lot better looking!" he spat back. If they were going to claim they had him, they could at least have someone who didn't look like a rat play the part, the idiots. Oh yeah, they were pissed. He brought the lid down just as they opened fire, shielding against the bullets, then dove aside while letting go of his cover and grinning. Time to have a little fun.

He snapped his hands, dropping his revolvers out of the sleeve holders and into his grip. With a grunt as the rounds ceased firing, he jumped up from behind the car and returned the attack. One shot knocked the large man's shotgun away, the second hitting it just right and splitting the weapon in two. He pulled the triggers again, the second round of bullets now disarming two more of the men. The leader, however, aimed that rather large weapon he had, pulled the pump action, and opened several sections of the gun to reveal more barrels inside.

"Interesting," Vash muttered just before he crossed his arms, left over right, and fired again to hit the man's left leg and his right hand dead on. First the weapon hit the ground, followed by its former wielder as he fell from his feet and screamed in pain while grabbing his wounded leg. "Some Vash the Stampede!" he cried out while the robbers stared in horror at him. "Not even a shot that hit me, and he's down after two rounds! The rest of you you wann'a try me!"

The men stepped back, hesitating as they debated on whether or not to pick up their wounded leader, then ran like hell to get out of there. With a smile, Vash twirled his guns about, then slid them into his side holsters. He walked over to the wounded leader, then, bending down, picked him up and looked around. "Can someone direct me to a medical center! This man needs attention, now!"

Someone cried out the directions, and with that, Vash headed down into town, knowing well that Annette was following behind him, but not paying her any attention. Maybe she was starting to really believe he was the Humanoid Typhoon, maybe not. But so long as no one else got the right idea, he would be alright for now.

* * *

It was an hour later that Vash finally left the hospital after leaving the wounded gang leader in their care. The mayor had been amazed that he hadn't just killed the man, but Vash had simply shrugged and stated that it wasn't his right to take a life. Besides, there had been other options, and while he still lived, at least the leader of that gang would learn from his mistake, and not be a threat to anyone again. He was going to have a hell of a time walking again once that leg healed, but, that was the price he paid for having tried to steal the honest earnings of other people.

Annette was waiting for him outside the main entrance as he walked out. "That was a noble thing you did," she said while now walking alongside him. "Anyone else would have just left things along, or shot to kill. Why didn't you?"

"As I said," Vash replied while now leading the way toward the local restaurant. "The situation wasn't equal. I can't stand to see people like him take what belongs to someone else."

"And why did you only cripple him?"

He sighed, reaching up to his sunglasses and for the first time removing them. "I don't kill people," he replied, and now turned back to reveal to her his shining sky blue eyes. The look on Annette's face showed that she hadn't expected those eyes behind his sunglasses. Must have been the whole 'eyes like the Devil' part of the rumors that no doubt were due to the fact he almost never took his sunglasses off. "No one has the right to take the life of another, Miss Mallard."

Noble words to live by, Annette had to admit that. Wait, then why hadn't he saved that giant from the sandworm back in Dankin? "You let that man die when he was eaten by the sandworm," she stated, noting she'd found a flaw in his apparent creed. "Isn't that taking a life, even if indirectly?"

"I said no one has that right," Vash shot back. He sighed. "Nature, however, is not a person, and thus _does_ have the right to take back what it gave in the first place." He paused for a moment. "Besides, there was nothing I could do to save that man, and in case you forgot, I was saving _you_ from him and the sandworm."

Well, that did make sense, and really, there hadn't been anything he could have done to change things. But this boy was such an enigma in terms of his views. If he was Vash, why did he do what he could to make sure people stayed alive? He was infamous for being a force of nature that tore through and destroyed entire cities. Hell, he was responsible for the massive crater on the fifth moon, an event that had resulted in Vash the Stampede being marked as a living Act of God. Was it all just a big misunderstanding, or was there more to it?

"So, how about lunch?" he offered as they walked into the cafe. "My treat, since I never repaided you for helping me out in Dankin."

Her heart skipped a beat. He was being really nice to her, even though they barely could call each other acquaintances, and yet, he wasn't trying at all to make an attempt of getting in her pants. The feeling she got was that he had no intention of secret motive, just being a nice guy. Was he really giving her his honest friendship? "I...sure."

Again, he smiled, but it was a different kind of smile. It wasn't the self-confident or calculating smiled she'd seen on his face before. Without those sunglasses covering his eyes, it was a kind smile, one that reminded her of a little boy. "Two please," he said to the waitress, who lead them to a table and left a couple of menus. Vash looked at it for a moment, then set it back down, evidentially already knowing what he wanted. "So, tell me. Why are you following me?"

She quickly opened her menu and hid behind it. "I'm not following you, we just happened to end up in the same place."

He wasn't convinced. "Uh-huh, that's why you keep going to every city I'm going through," Vash replied as the waitress came back with a couple glasses of water. He decided to wait for Annette before ordering, though he asked for a plate of donuts and a glass of milk as an appetizer, and simply began sipping down water while waiting . "You're following all leads on Vash the Stampede, and thusly, you're following me wherever I go."

Yes, she was following all leads on Vash, but did he have to play up this whole act of insisting that he was the Humanoid Typhoon? "You are _not_ Vash the Stampede," she finally said bluntly. "Vash the Stampede is a tall man with spiky hair, a red coat and-"

"And eyes like the Devil," he finished for her. He broke into a grin when the waitress came back with the donuts and milk. "Annie, you ready?"

She wasn't going to win this one, she could tell. "Just a beef and cheddar melt platter," she said after a moment. "Also, two glasses of whiskey."

Vash raised a brow, then ordered a large country-fried steak plate. As the waitress left, he started munching down on the donuts, gulping one down in a single bite, much to Annette's amazement. After taking a gulp of milk, Vash sighed. "I fit all those, save I'm not incredibly tall. And let me tell you, that's just something they tagged on to make me all the more impressive. I can outgun sixteen fully armed men with only two six shooters, I can shoot a bullet out the air, which, by the way, no other person on the planet can do, and, last but not least." He pulled back the flap over his left side gun, the shiny black one. "I've got a pair of rather large handguns."

"And eyes like the Devil?"

Again, he smiled, now taking his sunglasses from in his coat and showing them to her. "Reflective mirror lenses," he answered while demonstrating the effects of the lenses in the light. Truly, you couldn't see into those glasses at all, and from the light reflecting off them, it looked like a pair of demonic eyes. "I don't take them off often, so, most people who see me from a distance think that my eyes are glowing, and those who see me up close assume I have something terrible to hide behind them." Now he indicated his own eyes. "But as you can see, these baby blues are hardy demonic. Unless you believe that the Devil has eyes so beautiful that you can't look away, like the book says he does."

If not for the fact he was pointing out a very good fact about human religion, she'd almost accuse him of being conceited. But he was right; except for his height, which could be explained by exaggeration, he fit every single real description of Vash the Stampede. Wait, there was one other thing. Vash the Stampede was supposed to be the worst kind of womanizer, yet this boy was hardly that sort of person. There was another explanation; perhaps Vash was actually the worst _at_ womanizing and was in fact just a horribly doomed flirt.

Two more donuts gone. "Thus being," he continued after taking a few more gulps of milk. "You can't believe all the things you hear about me. If you did, then how did anyone survive to spread these rumors?"

Yes, that was true, so as he'd proven, you couldn't trust all the hearsay about the Humanoid Typhoon. "So," Annette began while now taking a sip of her water. "What does bring you through here?"

He shrugged, popping down another donut. "Actually, I came into town looking for Frank Marlon, so I could get these old heeps reworked. As good as I am, they're about two or three inches off from five feet, and I was hoping to have a lot of work done to make them into autos."

He wanted them converted? It was an odd idea. Could those revolvers be turned into automatics? "If anyone could do it, it is probably Marlon," she quipped while sipping down her water some more. "If I had any idea how to find him, I might be able to help, but, I've only heard of the guy."

Vash shrugged, then popped down the last two donuts and finished off his milk. Just in time too, the waitress was back with their food and the whiskey. He quickly started munching down on his meal while Annette took a large bite of her beef and cheddar melt sandwich. After swallowing a large mouthful of mashed potatoes, Vash finished drinking his water and smiled. "I'm sure I can find someone who can give me directions," he stated. "You're welcome to tag along if you want, being it's your job to keep an eye on me." He paused while cutting the steak. "You sure you're not working for Bernardeli?"

"I'm an Irregular with Verandil Investigation," Annette replied before gobbling down a handful of french fries. "Bernarndeli turned down the Vash case this time, and Old man Verandil decided to give it to me. That doesn't mean that the Insurance people aren't going nuts over this." She muttered something under her breath and took a swig of whiskey. "Miss Stryfe was quite upset over all the damage in Dankin."

He stopped with his fork and the steak upon it halfway into his mouth. He pulled it back and blinked. "Meryl Stryfe?" he asked curiously. "Short black hair, about five foot two, white outfit, blue pants, and a cape loaded with derringers?"

Even as she nodded, Annette felt something was odd about this. "You know her?"

"Well I should," Vash replied after finally taking that bite of his steak. "She only tailed me for about two years twenty or so years back." He gulped, took another bite of the potatoes, then chewed while he had a thoughtful expression on his face. "Should've stuck around and said hi to her, it's been a long time."

She bite down on her sandwich, eyeing Vash warily. "That's another thing," Annette continued after swallowing. "You look way too young to have been running around twenty years ago. Don't try and tell me you just age really well."

Vash hesitated in replying. If he told her outright that he was a Freeborn Planet Angel, oh boy, would she flip. She'd claim such a thing didn't exist, couldn't exist, and was such a ridiculous notion to begin with. Also, he couldn't very well tell her that he was, in fact, agelessly immortal.

Then again, even that wasn't the complete truth.

"I have my ways," he finally answered while sipping down his glass of whiskey. "Besides, I'm well over a hundred, considering I was at July City when it was destroyed over sixty years ago, so to question my age and how I look after this long is rather moot."

Annette mumbled again. "Smartass," she spat. She finally settled for finishing her lunch, then watched as Vash quickly swallowed down his own meal. How could he eat so much so fast? He was like a vacuum. "I'm still not convinced on you. You don't even look old enough to shave, let alone be Vash the Stampede."

A shrug, and he finished his glass of whiskey. "That's your choice," he said. The waitress came over, gave them the bill, and Vash pulled a couple bills out of his coat that he handed to her while Annette downed the rest of her glass. "Keep the change," he said as they stood up. "Oh, a question, miss," he quickly added before she left. "Could you tell me were I could find Frank Marlon?"

"Old Man Marlon?" she replied. "Yeah, he lives down the road from here, just past the tailor. Why you looking for him, you a friend of his?"

Vash shrugged and smiled while taking out his sunglasses. "You could say that," he stated while slipping the glasses back onto his face and heading out the door with Annette in tow. "Thanks again!"


	4. The Sand and the Sky Issue 2

Standing there on the bluffs, the man with long black hair looked down on the small town in contempt. Vash was there, so he'd heard, but even as he rubbed his left arm, he couldn't feel the man's presence. "Who are you?" he asked of the sky. "You're not Vashu, so who are you, and why is it you can do the things he can?

Walking up from behind him, the young girl looked to be quite bored. "We could just tear the city up and find out if it's really him or not," she suggested while smoothing down her dress. "If it is Vash, that'll get up his nose."

He nodded, but something just felt so off about this whole situation. Vash had gotten much shorter since twenty years ago, and he'd apparently grown his lost arm back. He looked much younger as well, but his face bore very similar features to it, save that now he had those three thin scars on the left side of his face and the beauty mark was gone. Maybe the latter was just being hidden by his sunglasses. It felt wrong though. That couldn't possibly be Vash. Yet he had to admit, no one else had that kind of skill and luck.

Someone came from behind to join them. "Something doesn't smell right about it," came the harsh voice from a large Asian man dressed in loose robes, black hair coming down behind him into a tight braid. "From what you instructed me with, Vash would have attempted to save that giant man from the worm. If anything, this 'Vash' made sure he couldn't escape. For a man that holds a code to never kill, he is very hypocritical."

Again, the man nodded. "Vashu is an odd person," he replied while he watched a bird fly by over the city. "However, the few thoughts I picked up from him indicated he had not expected the sandworm to burst up right then. He probably had planned to bring the giant in alive." Now he smiled. "But you're right. The Vashu I knew would have still tried to save him." He straightened his posture, then, with a snort, turned to depart. "That boy is not Vashu, but he does have a connection to him. I want to know what that is before I kill him." A pause as he halted and glanced to the young girl. "Zazie!"

"Yes?"

Still loyal to their cause, even after over two decades. "Contact Cairon and tell him to bring our friend into the open. I wishu to find out just how this boy is related to the real Vashu."

With a nod, Zazie pulled out a small communications device, but then paused as she realized something else. "And what of Lord Knives? Loyal as we are, he will not approve of our taking action when we are-"

"Zazie!" he hissed. She gulped as she could feel his frustration. Questioning the order had not been the best idea. "Lord Knives will be most interested in this imposter who claims the name of his brother." A smile crossed his lips as he turned back to his companions. "He will see that we are more loyal and worthy than that pack of animals he created to replace us. I will resume my place as his right hand."

The girl frowned, but nodded. It was best not to upset him, considering that he could implode a human's brain with just a thought. While she had no true need to be concerned about his powers, it was still wise to keep him happy. But as to the 'pack of animals' he'd made mention of...well, as she well knew, animals they were not. But that was not here or now.

Tapping a button on the device, she whispered orders into it, then clicked it off after making sure that the recipient had affirmed his mission. "Vulture is making his move into the city. We'll know who this boy is soon enough."

A nod, and he continued on his way. Once this mystery was solved, he'd take his place again by his master's side, and to hell with that freak animal who had replaced him.

* * *

_Knock, knock._ "Hello!" Vash called as the door squeaked open. "Mister Marlon!"

There was a grunt from some where in the back of the house. "If you're going to come in, do it already, don't stand there and let all the cool air out!"

That must have been a way of saying 'welcome to my home.' Vash followed the sounds of tinkering into the back where he saw a man hunched over the table. Mostly, he saw a brown vest over a white shirt, and traces of brown pants. "Mister Marlon, I came to ask a favor of you."

Again, that indignant grunt. "Favors cost money, and my services ain't cheap, so if you don't have the-"

The silver revolver dropping onto the table next to his work, Frank Marlon looked over and suddenly went wide eyed as he recognized the firearm. "It couldn't be," he whispered before jumping out of his seat and turning to see the blonde young man who was accompanied by one bluntly shorter and very pretty young woman. "Oh my god, it is you!"

A bottle came up from in his coat; Wild Turkey whiskey. "I promised that I'd bring the drinks next time," Vash stated just before he and Marlon exchanged a friendly hug. Annette was unsure how to process this all. Did her companion really know the legendary gunsmith that well? This was just more proof that he had to be the Humanoid Typhoon. "Sorry it's been so long, Frank."

"God damn, Vash! After you disappeared, I'd feared the worst!" Marlon broke into a large grin and pulled out a couple of glasses while Vash poured him only half the glass while giving himself a full dose. "Still remember, and you haven't aged a damn day, you rogue!"

With a toast, then downed their drinks. It was then that Vash gestured for Annette to take a seat and join them. "Frank, this here is Miss Annette Mallard, she's the latest in a long line of pretty girls assigned to keep an eye on me."

Marlon gave a bow in greeting, then turned his eye to Vash. "I still remember when you came into this town two decades ago, asking for me to fix that old gun of yours. You wear it out again?"

"Eh..." Vash waggled his open hand up and down, then pulled out the black revolver and handed it to Frank. "It's both of these actually. Plus, I need you to do a hell of a lot more work to them, if possible." He paused a moment, looking at the guns that were mounted on the walls, then smiled and finished his whiskey. "I want you to convert them into autos, Frank. Rebuild the stock if need be, but I want the entire barrel chamber carried over."

That was an odd and very difficult request. "Vash," Malron began while he handled the black gun. "That's gonn'a be hard to do. You'd be better off just getting new guns. Why you so hung up on these old things?"

Vash didn't reply right away. He poured some more whiskey for himself, sipped at it, then set down his glass and sighed. "Things have gotten worse, Frank," he stated while looking at his old friend. "They'd got a hundred on my head now, and the feds aren't the only ones after me." He hesitated, sipped his whiskey again, eyes filled with worry, and then, he continued. "The Gung-Ho Guns have been seen again." A pause. "They tore through June about two months ago, I barely managed to draw them out of the city."

With his own glass refilled halfway, Frank took a long sip, set down his glass, and sighed. He remembered what had happened more than twenty years ago with the Gung-Ho Guns. But they'd supposedly all been killed in their conflict with Vash. Speaking of which, Vash did look rather good for someone who was pushing well over seventy. Then again, twenty years ago, he would have said the same thing about him pushing fifty. Marlon accepted that someone who was a walking Act of God didn't age, but...had Vash actually gotten younger? And he was shorter too. But he knew things that only Vash would know, so, why argue with it?

"I can have one of them done by tonight," he finally said after finishing his glass. "I'll have to completely rebuild the grip and chamber, but the barrels I can save." Again, he paused. Something else from the last time he'd worked on this kind of gun. "This has to do with that weird rod in the barrel, doesn't it?"

Hm. Marlon had done a little more tweaking than needed the last time. That made it easier to explain his reasons for wanting to retain that part of his firearms. "Something like that," Vash muttered. "If you could get them done as soon as possible, I'd be very grateful. Also, I'm gonn'a need about four or six clips of ammunition, think you could include those?"

If it had been anyone else, Frank would have refused them outright at the first request. But, Vash had saved this town before, twenty years ago, and guessing from the excitement earlier, that bit of town history had repeated itself. Not only that, Vash had brought him out of his life as a drunk, given him a reason to live again. He owed this man his life. And if the Gung-Ho Guns had returned after supposedly being destroyed... "I'll have them both done by tomorrow night," he stated at last. "The ammo is gonn'a cost a bit, but I'll have that as well."

"Thanks, Frank," Vash replied with a grin. He pulled out some bills from his coat, handed them to the older man, and patted him on the back. "That should cover the parts and ammo costs. I'll stop by later to see how it's going." He corked the whiskey bottle, slipped it back into the folds of his coat, then bid Marlon farewell and departed with Annette in tow.

"Why are those guns so important?" Annette asked as they headed down the street toward the inn. "They look great and all, but why all the work to convert them into autos? Like he said, it would be easier and cheaper to just get new guns."

Vash didn't answer right away as he stepped into the inn and looked around to find that the clerk was gone. "They were a gift from a friend," he said just before ringing the desk bell. "They're the only ones of their kind, Annie, so despite how much work has to be done and how much it costs, I'm going to keep those things around."

Odd. For someone supposedly coldhearted, Vash was proving to be very compassionate and sentimental. Wait, why was she thinking of him as the real thing? Maybe because he'd been proving he really was Vash the Stampede. His incredible skill with firearms, knowledge that only Vash could have, and he was friends with the gunsmith Frank Marlon. Why doubt him unless he truly proved otherwise? She wasn't assigned to bring him in to the feds, just to keep watch and investigate the utter mystery around him and his past.

Just like Bernardeli's agents twenty years ago.

Now that she thought about, having read the reports from Meryl Stryfe and Millicent Thompson, it seemed like history had been repeating itself in some ways. That showdown with the bounty hunters certainly seemed similar to how the Bernadeli agents had first found Vash back then, and that armor car robbery...twenty years ago, a similar incident had happened in this very town.

Why were events now echoing things that happened then? Was it coincidence, or perhaps fate? Was this boy really the legendary gunman of god-like skill known as Vash the Stampede? Annette had no other option but to believe it. This really had to be him, and yet, he defied many of the rumors just with his attitude and actions. What was the truth?

"Can I help you, sir?"

Finally. "I'd like a room please, for the next couple days."

Well, Vash was checking in, which made sure she could keep her eyes on him and find out just what was going on. He'd mentioned someone called the 'Gung-Ho Guns'. That name had been in the reports from Bernardeli, but she couldn't quite remember. Annette would definitely have to make a request for any information on a 'Gung-Ho Guns' gang.

* * *

The sun had set, and the town was starting to pick up in its rather quiet nightlife. People were going to the saloon, having a good time, and just outside the town, a figure draped with cloaks made his way toward the inn. His face was largely hidden by his large wide-brim hat, though poking out from under it was a long hooked nose, which resembled a beak. He was very thin, yet now unhealthily so, and he seemed to have a malicious gleam in his dark eyes. He smelled of carrion, the stench of rotting meat on him, so it was no wonder that he was known as the Vulture.

Hm, better to get Vash's attention than to just go after him, if this was indeed Vash. His superior insisted that it couldn't possibly be the real Vash, but Cairon had been paying attention to that boy back in Dankin. Even if his looks did not match, the skill did perfectly. So Vash or not, the target was no one to be taken lightly or trifled with.

A faint wind blew through the streets, his cloaks billowing like the wings of a vulture. So, it was better to find someone else to target first, then draw out the Stampede and handle him that way. A hostage was best, if this young man was anything like what he had been told of Vash. Besides, he was thirsty.

He changed his course and walked into the saloon. People started to notice the decayed stench almost immediately as he walked through the doors. With his eyes glaring out from under his hat, he stepped up to the bar and slammed down a series of coins from one claw-like hand. "Something stiff and hard," he hissed to the bartender. "_Very_ hard."

That smell was disgusting. But, he had paid up front, so the bartender reached under the bar and pulled out the strongest drink in the house. A glass set before the wretched man, he poured the drink, then left the bottle. For how much he'd paid, this stinking fool could have the whole thing.

That same claw-like hand grasped the glass and threw down the contents in one gulp. After a moment, the man let out a sound of disgust and threw the glass against the wall, now garnering everyone's attention. "What the hell kind of drink is that!" he roared in anger. "You call that strong! I could milk a baby on that piss-water!"

"I'm sorry, pal," the barkeep replied. "But that's the strongest hooch we have here. If you don't like it, my apologies."

A chuckle escaped his lips. "Are you sure that's the bet you have?" he whispered, turning to the man behind the bar. "I dare say, I see something stronger than that water." Again, he laughed while extending his claw. "Tell me, young man. Do you know how to make a Holy Bartender?"

Chairs shifted as people started clearing back. The barkeep didn't get it, but it didn't sound like he wanted to find out, and judging from the reactions of the other people there, _they_ did. "No, doesn't sound familiar," he replied uneasily. What was this old man who reeked like spoiled meat planning?

"He doesn't know how to make..." The man chuckled, then thrust his claws into the horrified young man, grinning maliciously while everyone started screaming and fleeing for safety. "_That_...is a _Holey_ Bartender. It's my favorite, particularly fresh."

Pulling his hand out, Cairon the Vulture laughed and began licking the blood and other internal fluids of the now dying young man off his claws. "Hm...perfect taste. Nothing better than when it's fresh." He grinned, eyes flashing, and he leapt up over a group of people to land on a table just as they were headed for the doorway. "Please, please!" he exclaimed while spreading out his cloaks to reveal his other set of claws and create the image of him stretching a pair of wings. "There's no rush! We have to wait for someone, after all!"

* * *

"If I rework the chambers like this, then I should be able to..."

Frank Marlon was deep in his work, blueprints and notes on his study of those revolvers lying on his desk. The construction on Vash's guns was amazing, and the core rods of the barrels were something he still hadn't figured out, but they were meant for some kind of reaction. He'd done all kind of schematics of how to rebuild the revolvers as automatics, but he'd gotten so drawn into studying the guns themselves that he'd barely gotten started on the actually work.

But he was so close to figuring out those rods. They were some kind of control system, and there was a similarity between them and the control rods in a Plant. But why were they built into the barrels of a pair of custom revolvers? They had no use that way to humans.

Screams came from the saloon. Something terrible was going on over there, and judging from the number of people there were now scrambling to leave, it was pretty bad. The silver gun in his hand as he loaded it, Frank headed out and pulled aside one of the running survivors. "What the hell is going on!"

"Some maniac just walked in and killed Bill!" the woman screamed. "He looks like a monster, with claws and beak coming out from under his hat!"

It was them, it had to be. "Go to the inn!" he ordered her while turning toward the saloon. "Find that blonde kid and tell him that there's trouble down here!"

She nodded and ran off, leaving Frank to cock the hammer of the revolver and head for the saloon. Vash would make it in time to stop this maniac, but he should be able to buy some time for those hostages trapped inside. And as he took that step towards the doors, a body flew through and hit the ground, turning about to stare up in horror at Frank; Bill Hartford, the bartender, now dead. His chest had been torn open, and Frank almost threw up from how much it looked to be that internal organs were missing.

Then there was the laugh, and the screams. "Son of a bitch!" he hissed, now running up and kicking open the door. What he saw was a horrible vision to find; blood smeared on the walls behind the bar, a pair of bodies on the ground while entrails were scattered about. Three people were still alive, huddled up in a corner, and Frank found his eyes locked onto the cause of this insanity. Perched like a raptor on the bar, with a glass full of blood in one hand and what looked to be a human liver in the other, was a man dressed in bloodstained cloaks, a tight leather body suit which showed his gaunt frame, and a hooked beak-like nose which was framed by a pair of dark gleaming eyes. His hat lay on the bar, showing his rough black hair that now resembled feathers more than human hair.

"You're not who I wanted," he croaked, sounding like a vulture cawing as he raised his blood filled glass and drank it down. Frank wasn't sure whether he wanted to shoot the man, or vomit first, then shoot. The man's eyes caught sight of the silver gun. "That belongs to the man I was hoping to get, however. That means you have some relation to Vash the Stampede."

That proved it; this maniac was one of the Gung-Ho Guns. No wonder he was such a sick twisted bastard, and all just to draw Vash out! Well, this was going to be handled for a bit without the kid. "What's it to you!" Frank snapped back, aiming the large handgun and steadying his aim with his left hand. When that gun went off, it had to have one hell of a recoil. "You have any idea who I am, freak!"

Cairon grinned, hopped down from his perch, and threw the bloodstained glass against the ground where it smashed into pieces. "Frank Marlon," he stated calming while clicking his claws together. "Age, fifty-six. In good health since he quit drinking twenty-three years ago, works as a gunsmith, and maintains a once more respectable business in this city." Again, the Vulture laughed while Frank only held his aim. "Wife and daughter killed in a bank robbery thirty years ago, by a man who had been given his gun personally by Marlon. Did I forget anything, or should I now note your involvement with the fugitive Vash the Stampede?"

How dare he speak of something like that! His loss was well known, but to speak of it like it was some mere footnote was horrible and barbaric. "You son of a bitch!" Frank spat while his finger tightened around the trigger. "You walk in here and start killing people, then have the nerve to remind me of what I lost to people like you!"

Again, that detestable smirk. "Do you want to shoot me, then?" Cairon asked, spreading out his cloaks. "Will that make you feel better, Marlon! If you kill someone like me, will that make the pain stop!"

"Shut up!"

The trigger pulled and the round fired, sending Marlon flying back from the incredible recoil. Cairon leapt up just at that moment, dodging the bullet and landing to grab Frank by the neck. He swat away the revolver and lifted the man up, grinning while Marlon was now choking in his grip. "Foolish pathetic humans," he whispered, tightening his grip around Frank's neck. "You know Vash very well, I can tell. He wouldn't trust his gun to you otherwise." That horrible laugh, like a vulture's caw before it swooped down to a meal of carrion. "And I have a feeling I'll be seeing him soon enough, to find out if he is the real Vash, or just some fool who has the gall to impersonate him."

* * *

"Sir! There's trouble down at the saloon!"

Door swung open just as he finished pulling on his coat, Vash saw the terrified young woman standing there. "What's happening?" he asked in a calm voice. He could feel her panic, sense how much of a nightmare she has just escaped, but it didn't phase his own nerves. "What happened down there?"

"Some maniac walked in and killed Bill, then started going after everyone else!" she cried, almost bursting into tears at the things she had witnessed. "Oh god, he's a monster, he's not human!"

His hand pulled her head to his chest as he tried to calm her. "It's alright," he whispered just as Annette was coming out of her room to see what was going on. He glanced to the young blonde woman, nodded for her to arm herself, then returned his attention to the woman in his arms. "Just try and breathe, then tell me what you can. Is anyone else out there right now to stop him?"

A nod. "Frank Marlon went in there after he told me to get you!"

His head snapped up in shock. "Oh no!" Vash quickly left the woman standing there and raced down the stairs even as Annette came out of her room with her twin Eagle 9s in hand. "Annie, you go around the back of the bar when we get there, I'll try and get Frank out of there!"

"What about this maniac who's in there!"

Vash growled as he narrowed his eyes. He should have known what that chill down his spine earlier had meant. The Gung-Ho Guns had found him, and after he'd managed to eluded them over a month ago back in June City. It had torn up the town, but he'd drawn them away from killing anyone else after they had slaughtered an entire hotel just to get his attention. But there only seemed to be one of them here. Why only one? They had sent three of those maniacs last time.

But right now, he was more concerned about Frank and any other hostages who might still be alive in there. The Gung-Ho Guns were insane, brutally murdering anyone who they could find. One of them even indulged himself in drinking human blood like a vampire of old myths from pre-arrival on Gunsmoke. That one had been particularly of note to Vash, not to mention disturbing.

The body on the ground was the first thing that greeted them as they arrived. Annette almost threw up at the sight, but Vash's face only showed his hardened resolve. How often had he seen this kind of thing before? How many people had he seen die horribly, when he'd tried to save them? Was that the truth? None of it truly his fault, but all a matter of circumstance? "What kind of sick-"

"Knives," he spat, his tone filled with disgust. Vash slipped on his sunglasses and tapped a spot on the right side. His own vision through the lenses was overlaid by infrared, showing him the heat signatures from anyone inside who might still be alive. Three major heat sources, one of which was no doubt the Gung-Ho Gun who started this massacre. One of the others must be Frank. "Do as I told you," he stated while heading for the front door after turning off heat vision. "I just hope I can handle this with no more death for anyone."

She headed around to the back. Vash sighed, breathed in, then pushed open te door to be welcomed by a nightmare. Blood everywhere, internal organs thrown about, and there were two people huddled in the corner. That was two of those signatures...where was Frank?

"You're quite a bit shorter than I was told."

Jerking his head about, Vash saw the Vulture standing there behind the bar, one clawed hand on the counter while the other was hidden below. No, he didn't recognize this man, who was he? He hadn't been with the Guns two months ago in June City, Vash had already seen them all. There were seven of them, maybe eight, but this man was not one of them. "Who are you?" he demanded of the man who stood there, cloaks covered in blood. "Why the hell did you do this! What gave you the right to kill these people!"

Cairon laughed, tapping his right set of claws on the bar, but not moving. Vash could see what was under his hand now; his own silver revolver. How had he gotten that? "Well, you certainly talk like Vash the Stampede," he stated after a moment. Grasping the gun, he threw it to Vash, who caught it perfectly and flipped the weapon about to aim at Cairon. "You have his skills, true enough. But...Legato described you as taller, with hair that spikes up." A look of horror was on Vash's face now. That was just perfect. "Oh, and you seem to have grown your left arm back. You also look much younger than the photos I studied."

Legato? Legato Bluesummers? The leader of the Gung-Ho Guns? No, that was impossible. Legato was dead, killed the very gun in his right hand. "You're lying," Vash stated, but he couldn't shake the horrible feeling that was growing in the back of his mind. "Legato's dead! I-"

"You what!" Cairon spat while grinning. "You..._killed_ him?" Yes, Vash's expression confirmed that was true. "Shot him in the head as he kneeled before you, blew his brains out with the very gun you now hold!" The reaction on Vash's face was indeed priceless now. Wait, was that surprise on his face? It looked like this was the first time he was hearing this. But why? If this was Vash, he'd been there twenty years ago, pulled the trigger himself. Why did he look so surprised to hear this? Could it be that Legato was right?

Was this not really Vash? But then how had he known about how his gun had shot Legato? His expression had confirmed that it was him who shot Legato, but he looked surprised to hear that it had been in the head, with Legato kneeling before him no less. Had he forgotten that?

No matter. This was his target, regardless of if it was truly Vash or not. Besides, he had some connection to Vash if he knew this much, and he obviously had been a friend of Frank Marlon's. Speaking of which...

"Your friend was rather brave," Cairon stated, his eyes narrowing while his grin broadened at Vash. "He came in here all alone, with your gun, trying to be the hero."

Fear crept in at the back of his mind. He could already figure out where this was going, but he had to hope for otherwise. "Where's Frank?" Vash said, noticing the gleam in Cairon's eyes. This was not good. "_Where's Frank!_"

And then, he raised his left hand to pull up the limping body and throw it over the bar, where it hit the gound and slid to a stop at Vash's feet. The young man dropped down and turned the body over, only to scream in horror as he saw what the Vulture had done; Frank Marlon was dead, his throat torn open and his eyes gouged out while his mouth hung open in a scream of agony.

"Now do you see what comes when you claim to be Vash the Stampede?" Cairon hissed sadistically as he leapt up onto the bar, perched there like a raptor about to strike. "When you assume his name, boy, you also assume his burden and pain!" His claws flashed out. "But unlike Vash, you won't be leaving this place alive!"

He sailed into the air, his claws angling to tear into Vash, but then a pair of shots tore through the air and slammed into him, sending Cairon jerking to the side and crashing into a table, now still upon the ground. He heaved once, then, fell dead, his hand clattering on the wood floor.

Standing there from the back entrance, Annette was holding her double Eagles, barrels still smoking from the rounds she'd fired. For a moment, she said nothing, but then she ran over to Vash and dropped down beside him. "Are you alright?" she asked. But he was only staring at her like she'd grown horns and was breathing fire. "What? I just saved your life!"

"You killed him!" Vash screamed in horror. "Why did you kill him!"

"Vash, he was going to kill you!" she snapped back. How could he yell at her for doing the right thing, for saving his life? "What was I supposed to do in this situation!"

His cheeks were running wet with tears now. Tears that shined...no, glowed, faint blue, glowing with their own light. "You didn't have to kill him!" the young man exclaimed angrily. "You had no right to take his life, _no one_ has the right to take anyone's life!"

"Vash, he was going to take yours!" the woman screamed to her red clad companion. Yes, he was entitled to be upset over all this, but she had done the only thing she could. "The right to take a life or not, I did what was the right thing to do! He was a murderer, and there was no other choice!"

He shook his head, now pulling the sunglasses from his face to show that his eyes were watered over completely while those glowing blue tears poured down his cheeks. "There had to be," he whispered, now falling over into her arms. "There had to be another way. You didn't have to kill him..."

God, was this really Vash the Stampede? A legendary gunman who had destroyed July City in one shot, who had blown a crater into the fifth moon of their world? This...boy, who could not stand death. Was this the real Vash? Where all the stories just a wild tale cooked up? But, then how was it that this boy was the object of a one hundred billion double dollar manhunt? What had he really done?

"There had to be another way..."

* * *

Out on the bluffs, the man named Legato Bluesummers broke a smile. "Cairon has accomplishud his mission," he whispered, then turned to depart while Zazie and the large Asian man turned to watch him. "We have no further business here. Cairon did what I sent him to do."

"Legato," Zazie intoned as she and the large man followed their superior. "Cairon was killed by the woman, not by Vash, nor did he kill this imposter. How is that a success?"

"I have learned what I meant to," he stated as they all headed down the mountain side. Yes, Cairon had succeeded in his mission. He had tormeted this boy, broken him, and revealed that, even if this was not Vash himself, this boy definitely had Vash's essence, his mind and soul. That was enough for him. "We will watch him, Zazie, and when Malkav fails in his mission, we shuall bring Lord Knives his brother, prepared to join us and eradicate the humans."

While those three made their way down the mountain, a fourth figure was watching them from farther away. A lit cigarette was all that illuminated his features under his hat, while the large brown poncho on his body swayed in the wind. He took a drag, then pulled the cigarette out with his right hand and blew out the smoke before pulling up on the large metal cross that rested behind him with his left hand.

"Vash the Stampede," he whispered while putting the cigarette back in his mouth. He took one last drag, then threw the burned out butt away and made his own way own the mountain. "Looks like you've got just as much trouble as you did back then." He snorted while breathing out the smoke, then paused and took one glance down at the city. "The question is...are you the same man I'm looking for?"


	5. Wolf in the Fold Issue 1

He refused to speak to her. Three days later, and he still wouldn't even say hello. What was with that guy! He'd blow a man's legs out, crippling him for life, and let a sandworm make a meal of a giant who'd been about to kill hem, but when she was forced to kill a murderer in order save his life, he acted like she was the scum of the earth.

Ironically, that was how she felt right now. Like scum, but not because she'd shot and killed a man who had committed murder. Because she had destroyed any bit of respect Vash might have held for her. He'd trusted her, and now, because she'd been forced to kill someone to save him, he had lost all faith in her. Even after she's apologized and explained it all, he refused to listen.

Damn that man! How could he go on about how no one had a right to kill? There were times when one didn't have a choice, and she'd faced that. It was either kill that man or let him kill Vash. Hadn't she chosen right, to save a man who had done no wrong she could note as having been witnessed?

No, she had done the right thing, made the only choice she could. It was Frank's brutal death that was tearing Vash up, no question about it. God, to see the old man like that... Who would do such a thing, just to prove a point? Who _could_ do such a horrible thing?

Vash had mentioned a name. Knives. Wait, Knives? What kind of name was Knives? For that matter, what parent was stupid enough to name their kid after a sharp bladed object? That wasn't the important thing, however. What did that name mean; who was Knives? And why did he relate to what had happened?

Where was Vash? Probably still at Frank's place, clearing things up before the cit did a clean out. He'd been there for two days straight though, how much did he intend to take with him? The funeral was in less that a day, so surely he was intending to attend that.

A knock at her door. Annette sighed and walked over to open the door and see the desk clerk standing there. "Yes?"

"A message from your friend," he stated. "He wanted you to know that he's leaving the evening."

He was leaving? Tonight? "Thank," she replied as she pushed her way passed the man and raced down the stairs. If Vash left now, there was no telling ho long it would take to find him again. There could only be one place he would be right now though. Annette breathed in deep and make a beeline for Frank Marlon's. Sure enough, Vash was here, from the fact his coat was hanging up on a wall-mounted rack. Odd, she'd never seen him with that thing off.

"Vash?" she called into the house, then listened for the sounds of tinkering from in the workshop. What was he doing in there? "Vash?" Annette repeated, walking through the house and into the workshop, where she found Vash hunched over Frank's worktable. "Vash, I know you probably hate me still for what I did, but...I-"

"I know why you did it," he said, still working on whatever was in front of him. What was that blue thing he was wearing? It looked like a body suit, but not any material she'd seen before. It didn't look like cotton. "You couldn't find any other option. That doesn't mean there wasn't another way, but you did what you thought was necessary." A pause in his work as he tilted his head slightly toward him. "Thank you for saving my life."

He was talking to her again. There was hope after all. "You're welcome," Annette whispered. Now he was fiddling with whatever he was working on. "If I might ask, what are you doing?"

"Frank finished the notes for rebuilding my guns before he was killed," he stated just as he finished up and stood up. On the table lay the two guns he'd always carried, except, just as he'd wished, they were now in the configuration of automatics instead of revolvers. Vash smiled, picked them up, and twirled them about on his fingers to test the balance. "Perfect, just like he figured out." Vash slipped the guns into their holsters, then picked up a cluster of automatic ammunition clips and stuck them to the side of his legs. Wait, they actually were staying there. How?

That look wasn't missed. "Spring loaded grips," he explained as he finished placing four of the clips to his legs and locking the last two into the grip of his guns. There was a sharp click as the clips locked in and the chambers loaded. "A little something I'd rigged up a while ago. It worked out for holding the clips on me, and there's switches on top so I can just pushed down with my guns and slide the clip right in for a fast reload." He paused for a moment, then gathered up some papers and folded them up before heading to get his coat.

He seemed to be in a better mood, but something was still wrong. "Vash..." Annette hesitated with her words. Over a month of trailing him, getting to know him, and she still couldn't understand this boy who claimed to be Vash the Stampede. He was a complete enigma, his views and code a paradox, and there was a mystery about him that refused to be solved.

"I should be going," he said as he walked to the front door and pulled his coat from the rack. After a minute or so to button up the front flap, he slipped on his sunglasses and headed out the door, Annette right behind him. His mood had completely changed from three nights ago; he'd been a bawling wreck, yet now, he was a calm and collected bundle of steel nerves. What was up with him?

As he made his way toward the edge of town, Vash paused and looked back at Annette. Something was troubling him. "I'm not sure you want to be sticking around with me," he said before resuming his walk. "I'm a dangerous man to be around, Miss Mallard, even if I myself am not dangerous."

"My job is to keep an eye on you," she replied pointedly while catching up with the young man. "You're not the man they say you are, Vash, everything I've seen proves it. But you're still a mystery to everyone. You blew a hole in the fifth moon of Gunsmoke, you were the cause of July and Augusta's destruction, yet you're one of the nicest people I've ever met, and you're more concerned with the lives of others than with your own life." She paused and tried to get a peek past those sunglasses. No luck. "Vash, I have to accept that you are who you say you are."

All he did was nod. "I still think you're better off staying as far away from me as possible," Vash stated as they left the city limits and headed off into the desert. "Gung-Ho Gun or not, that man the other night knew I was here, and came looking for me. He wasn't working alone, and he knows about Legato."

Legato now? Where had she heard that name before? Oh yes, in the Bernardeli reports! But they hadn't gone into too much detail about the man called Legato Bluesummers, just mention of his involvement with the Gung-Ho Guns. Speaking of which, she'd hopefully get some info on that name soon enough. The events of late had to relate to that gang somehow. Maybe Vash could shed some light on it.

"This, Legato," Annette intoned as they continued walking. There was a bus station not far from here, that had to be where Vash was headed. "Who is he, and why is he so important?"

Those reflective lenses turned toward her. If not for them, she might have been able to judge his expression better. As it was... "He was the leader of the Gung-Ho Guns until twenty years ago." The young man paused, like there was something about this memory he couldn't stand. "That man the other night claimed to have learned about me from Legato."

"And?"

A snort. "I know he was lying, because Legato Bluesummers is dead, has been since the Gung-Ho Guns were wiped out two decades ago." He hesitated in continuing, then shook his head. "I don't like to talk about it, alright?"

Yes, he evidentally didn't like to dwell on his past that much. What was he hiding from her? How did he know that this Legato Bluesummers was for sure dead? For that matter, who had been the one who killed Legato? Certianly not Vash, what with his code of never taking lives. Or, was there some reason he'd taken such a code? Did Legato relate to how Vash had adopted this creed he held? Just one more piece to the massive mystery that was Vash the Stampede.

* * *

With a deep drag of his cigarette, the man in the brown poncho and hat sighed after departing from the hotel. He'd apparently just missed the man he was looking for. Figured that was his luck. Spent all night waiting to catch Vash before he left, and he was already gone. Maybe he could catch him at the bus station.

One hand grabbing the straps of his giant metal cross, the man hefted it and headed out toward the nearby bus station. How could he be continuously missing Vash? It's not like the Humanoid Typhoon blended it well. He stood out in a crowd no matter what, with how tall he was alone, and his distinctive attire. And then his hair; long and spiked up. No sign of that yet. And as for those three he'd seen three nights ago...they were someone to look out for.

"I should have noticed him on the way in," he muttered while tossing his now spent cigarette to the sand and smothering it with his boot. He adjusted his hat to give his eyes more shade from the sun, then continued toward the bus station. No, his luck would be that he'd just missed him. He could find out which bus last left and follow.

Opening the door of the station with his free right hand, the man stepped in and walked over to the ticket booth. "Which bus just left in the last hour or so?"

"No buses have left yet," came the reply from the ticket agent. Hm, pretty, but she looked a bit too old for him. "Next bus leaves for Greenriver in fifteen minutes, we still have seats open."

Best lead he had right now. "I'll take a ticket on that one," he said, pulling out the double dollars and paying for his seat. Now, the metal cross hefted on his shoulder again, the man walked over and set it against the wall before taking a deep breath and looking around. No sign of Vash yet, and there was no one that tall in visible sight. Damnit, had it been another wild goose chase!

"You didn't have to pay for me too, Vash!"

Wait, what? Vash was here, then. How'd he miss him though, he knew exactly what Vash the Stampede looked like. Where was that hair style, those sunglasses? No sign of them at all. Maybe he should start looking for that coat he remembered from his memories...

"And you need to stop buying me lunch, too! I can take care of myself!"

"I'm sorry, but when it comes to a cute lady, I can't help myself!"

Oh yeah, that sounded like something Vash would say. The worst kind of womanizer imaginable, as in 'he couldn't pick up a girl even if he had lessons from Casanova, Lord Byron, and Johnny Depp combined'. Whoever the hell Johnny Depp was. Some actor who was popular well before pre-arrival.

Picking up his metal cross again, the man made his way to the small cafe in the station. Just as he'd thought, he finally caught sight of that trademark Duster walking toward him. Wait, something was wrong. The person wearing that coat; they were blonde alright, and wearing yellow lens sunglasses. But the hairstyle was all wrong, and so were the shades. More to the point, this person was about half a foot too short. That wasn't Vash! No way in hell could that be Vash, he was too short, and looked too young! And since when did Vash have three scars on his left cheek?

"You are so hopeless!" his female companion groaned while they walked past the man holding the cross. "No wonder I couldn't believe that you're the Stampede!"

If not for the fact that the call for the departing bus had been made, he would have pulled those two aside. As it was, he carried his cross and boarded the bus, now seating himself in the back near those two. Who was this boy who apparently was claiming to be Vash the Stampede?

He settled for laying his hat over his eyes and leaning back to get some sleep. It was several hours by bus to Greenriver, may as well use the time for a quick nap before questioning this guy. He did look a bit like the man he'd seen years ago, and in those old photos. Similar features, but the young man's eyes were hidden by those sunglasses. This couldn't be Vash though. Not unless Vash some how shrunk and got younger.

"Look, I don't wann'a talk about Legato! I bought you lunch and the bus ticket, can you just leave me alone about that!"

He knew about Legato! Okay, sleep could wait. He had to know now. "Excuse me," he intoned as he lifted his hat from over his face and set it back on top of his head. "I couldn't help but overhear that...you're talking about Legato Bluesummer, correct?"

Even with those sunglasses, the blonde didn't look too happy about the subject. "Yes, and I'd appreciate _not_ having to tell about what happened."

From what he knew on the matter, the man with the hat knew that such a response was very much what should be expected of the real Vash. After all, the events surrounding Legato had been very traumatic for everyone involved. "Might I ask your name, kid?" he said while opening the window and lighting up a cigarette. "You look...familiar." Hm...best to play this guy's game and see why he was apparently claiming to be Vash.

He wasn't answering. Definitely a smart reaction. After all, in such a public spot, who would be that stupid? He seemed to be fingering something in his coat.

"Vash, would you just answer the man?"

Hm...this girl was either in on whatever scam was going on, or she'd been duped by it. "Vash?" he repeated in a low tone. "You're Vash the Stampede?" He glanced around, making sure no one else was listening in. Good they had a god six or so rows from the few other passengers. "Well, are you?"

"And if I am?" the blonde replied. "I suppose you'd like that big fat hundred billion that's on my head, wouldn't you?"

Now it wasn't so clear what was going on here. But the coat, that was definitely Vash's red Duster. One way or another, this kid had to have at least _met_ the real Vash. "If you are Vash," he said calmly while blowing the inhaled smoke out the window, "then I'd be an idiot if I tried to take you in myself." A pause as he smiled and held his hand out. "I'm Nicholas W. Thompson, some call me 'Lone-Wolf Nick'."

His own hand carefully took Nick's, and Vash had a sense of suspicion in his gaze as he finally took off those sunglasses. Damn, he even had Vash's eyes. Whoever the kid was, he was good. "Lone-Wolf?" he asked. "Why do they call you Lone-Wolf?"

A shrug as he took another drag from his cigarette. "Because my middle name is Wolfwood, after my father."

Surprise, then realization as his eyes narrowed. "Nicholas Wolfwood is your father?" came the suspicious question.

_So he's got a test for me as well._ "_Was._" Nick sighed and sat back before throwing out yet another burned out cigarette butt. "He was killed eight months before I was born, so my mom raised me all by herself." There was hesitation then. Time to test how slick this guy was in his scam.

"Your mother is Milly Thompson then," came the conclusion. Well, so far, 'Vash' proved he knew things that few people did, and Vash the Stampede was one of them. "You have her eyes, and your father's face." His eyes shifted to the large cross that sat in the very back. "And his old Cross Punisher." A pause as Vash glanced back to Nick again. "I owe my life to that thing, Mister Thompson, and thusly, to your father."

A hand went up to brush away formalities. "Call me Nick," he stated while smiling. "After all, you knew my parents personally."

Yes, Vash was nodding. Damn, this guy was good. How the hell did he know all this stuff, stuff that his mother was one of the few people who knew it? If he didn't know the truth, he'd have sworn this was Vash the Stampede. More importantly, how did this kid know that the large metal cross had belonged to his father?

"You think I'm not Vash."

That came as a surprise. "What makes you say that?" Nick asked carefuly. He kept his eyes now on the young man' hands. "Why do I have a reason to doubt you?"

Now Vash smiled. "Because your mother knew me, you've seen me once when you were a baby, and I don't look like you remember." He shifted his gaze toward the outside. "We have company."

There was no time to ask what that meant. Moments later, the bus suddenly was flung to its side, everyone screaming as it flipped and slid on the ground before coming to a halt. Vash stood up in the overturned bus, slipping his sunglasses back on and drawing out his guns. Now Nick was staring in shock. Despite the work to make it into an automatic, that silver handgun was the very same one he'd seen when he'd been only months old. How did this kid have it?

No time to ponder that. There was laughter coming from outside, insane laughter that Nick recognized as the Ravager; desert cannibals who attacked unlucky travelers for food. He'd never heard of them hitting a bus though. "You alright?" he asked as he helped the young lady up to her feet. "I don't believe I caught your name."

"Annette Mallard," she snapped, now drawing out her own Eagle 9s and flipping the safeties off. "And thank you, Nick."

Well, so long as everyone was getting ready for the inevitable fight, he may as well join in. Nick grabbed his cross from the ground, tapped one of the arms, and revealed a rack of five matte-black nine millimeters. He grabbed a pair, hit the hidden switch to shut the compartment, then clicked off the safeties. "Looking forward to a good killing spree?" he asked of Vash. This was the big one. If this was a scam, the kid was bound to screw up with-

"We kill no one," he hissed in response. "Shot to disable only, and bring in the injured so the Ravagers don't eat their own wounded."

And Nick's jaw almost dropped. There was no way any con-artist could have known that's how Vash would have replied to such a question. Who was this kid, how did he know so much about the real Vash and how he thought? Hell, he had to have some connection to Vash. He looked a lot like the legendary gunman, even had the same eyes and golden hair. Was he Vash's son? Not with Meryl, she'd never had any children, especially Vash's. So, then who was this boy?

A shot rang out. As a window shattered and rained down, Vash moved uner the opening and leapt up onto the bus. "We got six Ravagers!" he called back down into the bus. "Annette, aim only for their hand and feet! Nick, I pray to God that you don't decide to gun any of them down, no matter how much you may believe that's what they deserve!"

Yes, he definitely thought like Vash. He didn't talk like him though. This kid was more serious, more commanding instead of seemingly lost and making it up as he went along. "I'll do my best," he muttered before climbing out the window hole to join Vash outside. "So, what do we do?"

Vash tapped the side of his sunglasses. "Find the leader and disable him," he replied after setting his glasses to audio locking. "Ravagers don't go for a kill if their leader is down, and he's the only one they won't turn into dinner."

Yes, but which one was the leader of these disgusting looking nomads? They weren't even human, why was this boy so up on not killing any of them? While he couldn't be Vash himself, he certainly so far had proven himself a real successor.

"Send out five of passengers, and we'll let the rest go!"

Vash grinned and raised his revolvers while pressing against the roof of the overturned bus. "That's the leader," he muttered. He looked out from behind his cover, keeping an eye on the group of six cannibals. "How do we know you'll keep to your word!" he cried back. If that same moron replied...

"You don't, so just give us dinner and trust us to let you go!"

Yep, that idiot had opened his yap, and Vash now had a lock on him. "And you can trust me to kick your asses," he whispered before stepping out from behind the bus and firing right at the man who was locked into his sunglasses' scanner. Two bullets tore into the cannibal's legs, bringing him down to the ground while his companions stared in horror. "Anyone else wann'a set terms with the Humanoid Typhoon!"

"_Vash the Stampede!_"

Yep, that got them gathering their wounded leader and running for it. That was actually easier than he'd thought. Twirling his guns on his fingers, Vash slipped them back into their holsters and turned to see Nick with his jaw about to hit the ground. "We need to keep watch until a rescue truck can come out and gather everyone," he said while now setting his sunglasses back to normal vision. "They've been scared off, but you can bet that they'll come back later if they think it's worth it to risk the Humanoid Typhoon."

If there had been any doubt that this boy had some connection to Vash, it was gone now. He couldn't be Vash himself, but the skies be damned if he didn't have ties to the living legend. Only Vash could have pulled off that kind of a stunt, and only Vash would have been so focused on leaving his opponent alive and able to recover. Who was this kid?

* * *

The sun was starting to set by the time an armed rescue crew came to pick up the passengers and take them back to the station. Vash had opted to just keep walking and find another way to Greenriver on the way. That made sure that Annette and Nick stayed with him.

"You know, you don't have to be following me around," the young man said as they made camp on a series of bluffs. The Ravagers were far from their location, so there was no worries of waking up to find they were in the boiler. "Annie's doing it because of her job, but you..."

Nick sighed and lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, then exhaled before he thought on an answer. The most direct response was to tell the kid that he was on to him and demand the truth. But, that might not pan out well. Another option was just to leave things be, but then he got no information. The only real way to find out what was going on was sadly the direct route.

"I know that you're not the real Vash," he said while tossing that cigarette into the rocks. When Annette stared at him, Nick sighed and gestured to Vash. "I know for a fact that you can't be him, because you're far too short. Vash the Stampede is tall, he's around six foot four, while you look to be about, I'd say five-eight, five-nine." A pause as he ran down the list. God, had it gotten chopped down since earlier. "You also are a lot younger looking that he is, and his hair is spiked up, while you...well, we can see how you look. You also have your left arm, Vash doesn't."

He half-expected a violent denial, some outburst to defend himself. The response he got was farthest from that. Vash actually was laughing as he pulled off his sunglasses, slipped them into a pocket on his coat, and clapped for Nick's deductions. "Bravo, Mister Thompson," he said while grinning. Even with Annette staring at him in shock, Vash wasn't phased. "Considering your mother was one of the agents who chased the Humanoid Typhoon two decades ago, I had indeed hoped that you would recognize the discrepancies."

Her jaw refused to shut from just how much Vash had just admitted to. He _wasn't_ the real Humanoid Typhoon? But then why make the claim, how was he able to do things that only Vash could do?

"I still don't get how you know things that only Vash could know."

The young man chuckled as he pulled out his autos and set them on the ground. "How do you think I got these guns and my coat, Nick? More precisely, who do you think gave them to me?"

His brow knit as he tried to figure out what this boy was driving at. Only one person could have given him those weapons and that red Duster. "Vash himself, and my question is, how, and why."

A shrug as he reclaimed his firearms. "Well, I supposed I owe you both a full explanation." He paused for a moment, breathed in, then smiled. "I'm not the _original_ Vash the Stampede, that much is true." He glanced to Annette, noting just how confused she was as she tried comprehending it all. "But I am Vash the Stampede now. The original Vash gave me his name when I left his care two years ago."

Very interesting. "Left his care?" Nick inquired while shifting his position. Now things were starting to make a bit of sense, but there were massive questions still left. "So, you are his son then?"

Again, there was that grin. "You could say that," Vash replied while now poking the fire to keep it going. "Vash raised me like a son, so in a way, he's my father. He taught me everything I know. Turned me into his complete equal as a gunman, and gave me the code that I have lived by ever since." His eyes flashed to Nick, and in the light of the campfire, they looked like they were glowing. "No one has the right to take the life of another. Not for any reason, not for any purpose. Only nature has the right to take back what it has given."

"_You're not Vash the Stampede!_" Annette screamed out. She couldn't believe this. She had been completely convinced, and now he admitted to being a fraud!

As he winced from the sheer volume, Vash shook his head. "Not the _original_ Vash, Annie. But for all intents and purposes, I am Vash the Stampede _now_. Whoever I was before doesn't matter, because I am the guy they're looking for now."

"Which leaves the question," Nick stated. He sighed while Vash looked over to him. Annette still wasn't sure if she was going to tear her hair out or not. Hopefully not, she had lovely hair. "Who _were_ you before you became Vash?"

He waggled a finger back and forth at the older man. "That's something I can't tell you, Mister Thompson. I will tell you, however, that you are quite right; I'm far too young to be the original Vash. I'm only nineteen years old, about two years younger than you."

No wonder he'd felt like he was just a kid. But damn, he had one hell of a commanding presence. He wasn't kidding; for all things that mattered, he was Vash the Stampede. A gunman so incredible that he was without equal, a humanoid typhoon. And even Annette was realizing that point. He may not be the Vash that started it all, but he was still Vash. This was the guy she'd been sent to investigate, and even if some of the mystery had been peeled away, there were layers upon layers to unearth. Who had he been, why had the original Vash raised him?

For that matter, why was he taking Vash's place and willingly becoming the target of a multi-billion double dollar manhunt? What did he get out of it? Or did he expect anything out of all this? What was he looking to gain?

And then, she realized she had her clues. It dealt with the Gung-Ho Guns, this Legato Bluesummers. And Knives. Someone called Knives, that had to be the key to it all. He had always acted upset, even disturbed, when she asked him specifically about Knives. Even if he hadn't actually met Legato, he had met this person named Knives, and it held the key to why he had become the Humanoid Typhoon.

It would have to wait. He obviously wasn't ready to tell them everything. What he'd said was enough as it was. But, she knew that she couldn't let Verandil know what she'd discovered here. If it was known that there was not just one, but two Humanoid Typhoons, the whole planet would go crazy in the hunt for both of them. And obviously, the original Vash did not want to be found. Had he found a peaceful life, able to rest with this boy taking his place, accepting the burden for Vash? There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but she knew that this Vash wasn't ready to give the answers.

And hiding in the mountains, a figure watched the trio. He laughed to himself, pulled out a communications device, then whispered into it before turning and leaving the area.

They'd finally found him.


	6. Wolf in the Fold Issue 2

He was the most precious child in the world, they always told him that. His parents loved him more than anything, and even at four years old, he could understand that, and that he was different. They all were.

"Mama, is dinner gonn'a be ready soon?" the little blonde boy asked as he tugged on his mother's dress. She smiled, ruffled his hair, and let him know that it was just going to be about ten more minutes.

It was when she was taking the rolls out of the oven that something came smashing through the dining room window, and a body crashed into the table, collapsing it under him. Blood was everywhere, and the little boy's mother screamed as she saw that it was her husband. He had been mauled, torn up as if by millions of knives all at once. And then, as if only to add to the horrible sight of it, it looked like he'd been blown through the window by a shotgun blast, tearing his chest open while his face was in a permanent expression of terror.

"Oh god, no!"

There was a laugh. A cold, hollow, and chilling laugh. The boy turned to see someone walking toward the window, and the first details that presented themselves were those inhumanly cold ice-blue eyes and that nearly white pale blonde hair. He raised his arm toward the boy's mother. "You are a blasphemy," he intoned while his arm began to reshape. Thousands...no, millions of knives were forming from his skin. "The attempt of humans trying to be us, and such is a sin beyond compare!"

"Mama!"

* * *

"_Mama!_"

Screaming as he jolted awake, Vash breathed heavily, sweat dripping down his face. His screams had woken up Annette and Nick, leading them to stare in shock while he had woken up from the horrible memory. His breathing finally slowed as he purged the images from his mind, but it had done enough. Now they were watching him to make sure he was going to be alright. The sun wasn't even up yet.

"Are you okay?" Annette asked while feeling his head. "You were screaming in your sleep."

He breathed in, then slowly nodded, now laying back down to try and go back to sleep. "Just a nightmare," Vash replied. He didn't want to tell them that they were horrible memories of what had happened to him years ago, what had made him into the person he was now. That was the reason he'd been so traumatized by Frank's death; it was like watching all that again. "I'll be fine, just need some sleep." _Please don't ask about what I was saying..._

Fortunately for Vash, the two decided to let him be for now and went back to sleep. They were out pretty quickly...damn, did Nick snore! It was like a train going by at full speed! It was going to be a while before he fell asleep again. Maybe that was for the better. He didn't want to be seeing his past again, because every time he did, he lost all awareness and went nuts. The last time it had happened, he'd woken up to find that half the rock formations where he'd been sleeping were gone. Not something he wanted to happen around people.

Why now, though? Maybe it had to do with how Frank had died. Seeing him maimed like that was bad enough, but it was too similar to how they had died. That was why he did this, taking the real Vash's place out here in the world. He wanted to find the man who had slaughtered they people who loved him, leaving him, a four year old child, as all that remained of his kind. Millions Knives, a person who tried to be God, and presumed to act like he was God. Knives was the one person that he was willing to break his code for, to prevent him from doing such a thing ever again.

But then that voice in the back of his head reminded him to think about if it was worth it. To kill a man for revenge, was it worth becoming what you fought against? Would he be any better than Knives? It was something he couldn't understand yet. He wasn't even two decades old, how could he expect to understand that kind of moral dilemma? He barely understood what was wrong with him. Then again, not many people on Gunsmoke understood his problems.

Some mental condition that made his state of mind flux. One minute, he could be perfectly calm, and the next, either raging with anger or breaking down in tears. The doctor at the ship had called it...something to do with a couple of poles. The hell if he could remember what it was called, all that mattered was that it caused him problems, and being someone of his kind meant you generally had mental problems like it.

Someone like Knives though, the number of problems that man had could fill entire books. Homicidal, genocidal, a massive god-complex about the size of the planet they lived on, and an obsession with the 'purity of his race'. Like he cared about that. All that mattered to Vash was making sure that, one way or another, Knives was out of commission for good.

He finally managed to block out Nick's freight train snores, and after about twenty more minutes, Vash was sound asleep again, but the horrible memories would not leave him alone. By the time he woke up, Vash was not going to be a happy camper at all.

* * *

If there was ever a time he wished he could just blow away the pain with his guns, now was it. Vash was holding his head as he dealt with the massive headache he was suffering from. He hadn't even been getting drunk last night. "God, what I wouldn't give for a painkiller the size of a moon for this god damn migraine."

"We'll be in town soon enough," Nick replied, Cross Punisher on his shoulder. "You should be able to get something there." And as he heard Vash's stomach growl, Nick gave a sympathetic grin. "And something to eat, no less. You got a dog in there or something?"

A snort as he tapped to the side of his sunglasses. Full light filter, much better. "I've got an insane metabolism, Mister Thompson. The upside is that I tend to stay in good shape, I'm fast, have quick reflexes, and I rarely get any thing more than allergies. The downside is that it eats up my energy like nobody's business." A laugh while his stomach growled again. "I have to eat a lot in order to keep up."

About an hour later, they walked into town, and were now sitting in a diner. Nick was eating a steak, Annette was having Alfredo chicken, and Vash had about four different entrees piled before him; Salisbury steak, pork chops, potatoes, plate of vegetables, a large bowl of clam chowder, and a salad. It looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks to anyone looking at him.

"Is there any chance that I might inquire," Nick began while they watched Vash gobble down the steak in a matter of minutes. "Would you be willing to tell us a bit more about why you do this?" Those sky blue eyes looked at him to clarify the question. Interesting person this young man was. "Why are you taking Vash's place out here? Assume his name, take on his burden...what do you expect to get out of it?"

Vash finally paused and downed a glass of water while he thought on how to answer. "You still don't quite trust me," he intoned. Yes, that was obvious on Nick's face. He was trying to figure Vash out, determine his reasons for everything. "I'm not very comfortable telling you about how Vash came to raise me." A pause while he started munching on some ice. "But, he did raise me like a son, and I suppose giving him the chance to live his life in peace is my way of thanking him." And he resumed eating, diving into his salad, which was gone within a matter of minutes.

"But, as you're thinking," he continued after wiping some dressing from his mouth, "it's not that simple. There's something else, a pattern to where I've been going." Nick was nodding, just as Vash had surmised he would. "Yes, I have a goal, and it deals with some old friends of our predecessors."

There. His suspicions had been confirmed. "You're after the Gung-Ho Guns," Nick replied while popping a piece of his own steak into his mouth. A moment after he'd swallowed, his fork came up to point to the Humanoid Typhoon. "I'd heard about the incident in June a few months back, but I didn't want to believe they'd really returned. After Legato was killed twenty years ago-"

A flash of pain in Vash's eyes. Something was wrong. When Nick set down his fork, the young blonde finally sighed and shook his head. "Legato's not dead," he stated in a tone of voice that held a good amount of fear in it. "As much as I wish so, that man in the bar wasn't lying. I would have felt it if he was, Legato's still alive somehow."

"That's impossible." Nick growled and patted his coat for his pack of cigarettes, then pulled one out and lit up to take a drag for a moment. "Legato is the only man your Old Man ever killed, and I know for a fact that he could not have survived having his head blow open by that gun you've got."

Now the boy flinched. He truly looked horrified to have that part of Legato's death confirmed. How could he not know about that event? Had the original Vash not told him? That was the only explanation for the boy's reaction, but still, he should have some idea of what happened.

"Who is Legato exactly?" Annette said, finally pushing herself into the conversation. "Vash told me that he was the leader of the Gung-Ho Guns twenty years ago, but other than that-"

"Legato Bluesummers was a maniac." There was a hard expression on Nick's face as he inhaled from his cigarette, then blew the smoke out through his nostrils. "He was a ruthless killer, just as bad as Knives, and he forced the original Vash into a situation where he had no choice but to kill him."

The boy wasn't saying a word as he just sat there. He didn't even move, but looked to be in complete shock. He hadn't heard any of this. Why hadn't he been told the truth about what happened? Yes, he knew that his predecessor had killed Legato, but he'd never been told the situation, how he'd killed him. Would he have to follow in that path as well? If he truly intended to break his promise when he finally faced Knives, there was no doubt about that, but, that was his anger, his rage, everything that made him nearly a monster talking. Deep down, Vash didn't know if he'd really be able to kill a man, let alone the man who had slaughtered...

Did he want to risk becoming the very thing he was hunting? Would that be the price of exacting justice, to become what he hated? Vash wasn't sure now if he could do what he had been planning for the last several years. He wasn't sure if he really wanted too, as much as he'd played it over again and again in his head.

"Legato's not dead," he again said. There was no doubt in his eyes now, and Nick could see Vash believed it. "Somehow, he survived and is still trying to ruin my life, if he thinks I'm the same Vash. If not..."

A nod. "If not," Nick added as he finished off his cigarette and pushed it into the ashtray. "He sure as hell knows you're connected to the Vash he knew. If he is alive, it had to be him and his gang watching from outside of Ramon about a week ago, when that maniac tore through." That was interesting. Vash hadn't figured out that he'd been searching and watching himself for a while now. "I saw about three people outside the town in the mountains. They were talking about you, kid, which leads me to believe that in some capacity, they're still serving the Gung-Ho Guns." A pause as he fished out another cigarette and wedged it between his lips before lighting up again. "I didn't like the look of it, so I just kept my eyes open, but I have a feeling that they had some connection to Legato."

That confirmed it then; Legato was following him. That meant that the psychopath had been sent by the former leader of the Gung-Ho Guns with orders to draw him, Vash, out into the open. It had worked alright, but some how, Vash didn't think that Legato expected his man to be shot by Annette. Hell, he had never even found out who that vulture-like man had been other than an agent of Legato. But it did mean that there were more of them, and no doubt, Legato would send more after him.

Which now left quite a problem on their hands. There was little doubt that Legato would soon send another of his people to attack, and they would not have the luck they had last time. Vash knew he could count on Annette, despite how much he was still sore over how she'd been forced to kill that man, but Nicholas Thompson... Well, if he was anything like his father, he probably was reliable. But to who was the question.

"I don't blame you for suspecting me," Nick remarked while finishing his meal and setting down the silverware. He looked up at Vash, noting that the boy was rather much holding a stonic expression now. "After all, I came in looking for you, and you're not sure what my full reasons are." He smiled, drank down his water, then sighed as set the glass back on the table. "Well, you were honest with me, so I should be honest with you. To put your mind at ease, no, I'm not with the Gung-Ho Guns in any form. I'm actually here because of my mother." Another pause. How to explain this, that was the tricky part. "My mother wanted me to check out all the stuff going on with your name attached to it. She's concerned about your Old Man, kid. I have a feeling she knows about you, but she didn't tell me anything about Vash having a prodigal son, so I assumed you were the real deal."

There was a slow nod. Nick wasn't lying, nor was he trying to hide something. Vash decided that for once, his paranoia was just that and let it rest. "Yeah, Milly knows about me, and so does Meryl, that's why I wish I had stuck around in Dankin." He glanced to Annette and noted the perplexed look on her face. "You know, you're pretty cute when you make that face," he noted before now gobbling down his pork chops. "Mind you, you're pretty cute regardless of the face you make, even when you're angry."

Nick couldn't help but laugh. "You definitely have Vash's penchant for flirting, though you're a hell of a better sweet talker than him."

"Thank you." Vash grinned while gulping down the last of his pork, then noted that Annette was glaring at him. "What? I'm telling the truth. I think you're a cute lady no matter what. Is it so wrong for me to be honest?"

On the one hand, he had done nothing more than display a genuine affection for her. Buying her dinner, paying for her bus fare, and other small things even when she insisted on handling it herself. On the other hand, his predecessor was infamous for being the worst kind of womanizer, and this Vash might be the same way. But, he had only focused his attentions on her, as opposed to going after anything with two legs and a pair of breasts. And she did look rather young for her age, so she was told. Twenty-five years old, and she still looked like a teenager. But still, she wasn't that pretty...was she?

"You are that pretty." Vash started spooning his clam chowder while both Annette and Nick looked at him in shock. "I can see it on your face, you don't think you're that beautiful." He set down the spoon in the bowl, then gave what was probably the cockiest grin she'd seen on his face. "I assure you, Miss Annette, you are. Pretty as a spring rose after the rain fall, and I'm not just being nice. In my opinion, it's the honest to God truth."

Now her face was starting to go red. No one had ever complimented her like that before. Underhanded this kid was not, but the skies be damned if he wasn't hitting on her. How could he have gotten such a sugary tongue like that? He'd been raised by Vash the Stampede, he should have had the worst sense of tact if the rumors were true. Yet, he was a hell of a sweet talker. Maybe letting him go on wouldn't be that bad. Her imagination was certainly running away off the tracks. Hm, a candlelight dinner with the Humanoid Typhoon. She could see it now, her and Vash sitting down for dinner. Maybe that nice fancy restaurant back on Florentine that her father had taken her to when she'd graduated the academy, with the fountains and the dance floor. Hell, maybe he'd even actually be able to dance, unlike her last two boyfriends. Gliding across the dance floor while the band played, one hand holding hers while the other rested gently on her hip, lips slowly moving towards hers...

"Ack!"

The two men blinked as she snapped out of her daydream. "Something wrong?" Vash asked as he finished up his soup.

No, he couldn't know what she'd just been fantasizing about. Hell, she couldn't believe she'd been imagining that, let alone think it up. "It's nothing," she quickly exclaimed while her face was going bright red from embarrassment. _Easy, Annie,_ she said to herself, trying to force down the blushing. _You've had lousy luck with men. Better not to get involved with him like that._

There was something in the waiter's hand as he came over with the bill. "A message for you sir," he said, handing Vash a large white envelope. "A man dropped it by and asked me to deliver it to you."

He nodded, opening the letter and reading it carefully while out the money for his meal. He and Annette had had a bit of a fight over that, since she told him that he was not to pay for her food any more because he was going to run out of money for himself if he kept treating her. Nick, on the other hand, had not been an issue, since he had only recently joined them, and did not fall under the category of "irresistibly cute girl". After the threat of taking him to the feds for the reward, Annette had convinced Vash to pay only for himself this time.

Right now, however, his attention was on the letter. His eyes went cold as he read it, knowing that his fears had been right, and that something was going to happen very soon to get his attention. "We have to go," he said while setting his part of the bill on the table. As his companions gave him confused expressions, he gestured for them to put their part in before they get out of the diner. The letter was still in his hand, but even now was becoming crumbled while he led the way through town.

"Vash!" Annette cried as they made their way toward the edge of the town. "Vash, what's wrong? What did that letter say?"

He didn't answer right away. Vash quickly slipped his sunglasses on and tapped a button on the side to activate one of the various scanning mode in the lenses. "One of them is here," he replied at last after a few moments. "Not Legato's, one of Knives' Gung-Ho Guns. It's human, so that means it's the guy with the dolls." Dear god, did he remember that psychopath.

"Dolls?" Nick raised a brow in response to that point. "How dangerous can a guy with dolls be?"

With his left hand unbuttoning the cuff, Vash pulled up the sleeves of his coat and body suit to show the barely fading scars along his arm. "It's some weird mysticism called Voodoo," he stated coldly before pulling the sleeves back down. "He does something to the doll, and the wound and pain hit the person it's made to resemble. Freak cut me up like hell back in June before I managed to get the damn doll of me out of his hands and run like hell." He paused, threw down the letter, then drew out both of his guns while his head tilted to the side. That was enough for his companions to bring their own weapons out. "He's here."

There wasn't a sound. Everything got disturbingly calm, and then, Vash was suddenly sent flying back between Nick and Annette. He hit the ground, guns dropping from his hands, and he groaned as he carefully got back to his feet. "Son of a..." The blonde boy winced from the pain that was in his chest now. That had been a solid hit, and he hadn't been at all expecting it. "That is what he can do with the damn voodoo doll."

Even as he picked up his weapons, Vash jerked around as if he'd been punched hard in the face, then doubled over before snapping back in reaction to an invisible uppercut. Both Nick and Annette were looking around, weapons ready, but there was no sign of whoever it was that was attacking Vash.

And then, there was that laugh. "We meet again, Vash the Stampede!" came the voice. It seemed to be sourcing in all directions, making it impossible for them to determine where it was really coming from. "You evaded us in June City, but not here!"

A large spat of spit and blood to the ground, and Vash rose to his feet. "Nice to hear you too, Tremil," he hissed while gripping his guns. The scanning equipment in his sunglasses was useless here, since his target was human. However, he had other ways of tracking his foe. "Knives still not giving up his 'holy crusade'! You do know that you'll be included in the corpses once you out live your usefulness to him!"

"But that is a long way off, dear boy!" Whoever the owner of that voice was, he certainly had a very sophisticated tone to how he sounded. This was going to be interesting. "Lord Knives still has much use for me, and I intended to be of use after we kill you!"

He started running off calculations in his head, trying to narrow down where Tremil really was. If he could just stall before he was...

"Ah!" Vash screamed out, dropping his guns and grabbing his left arm while a sharp pain stabbed through his muscles. It was right in the center of the bicep, where he knew that the original Vash had lost his own left arm. "Son of a bitch!"

The Cross Punisher rose up and was held in position to fire while the long shaft of the cross snapped open to reveal a machine gun barrel. Nick was looking about, trying to find their target, but so far, this Tremil was rather good at hiding. "Where the hell is he!" the man snapped angrily.

Vash winced as the worst of the pain ended, but it still felt like his left arm was on fire. "God damn, I hate it when he does that!" the boy roared. Another stabbing pain shot through his chest. It was like being impaled on a sword, blade driven through his lungs, and he couldn't breathe. If he didn't stop this soon, he was going to be killed. "Where is he?" Vash whispered, now closing his eyes and trying to focus past the pain. His mind wandered about, trying to find the mind of Tremil, trying to find where he was.

Another sharp stabbing sensation forced him to the ground. Vash was crying out, but his mind stayed on its task, reaching out to feel the person he was seeking to find...there! That's where he was! His right hand grabbed the silver automatic, fighting against the anguish as he struggled to aim. Vash narrowed one eye as he saw what he was looking for, then pulled the trigger and let loose the shell.

A moment later, there was a scream, and Vash was able to breathe again. Noise came from the direction in which he'd fired, the sound of someone racing to escape. He took a deep breath while Nick and Annette helped him up, picking his black auto from the ground and slipping both weapons into their holster. "I only got his hand," he stated after a moment. "He'll be back after reporting to Knives." The boy frowned now, however. "He did what he was sent to do, however. Knives it watching for me, and now I know it." His gaze flicked to Annette. Even with those mirror lenses, she could see that it was a gaze of concern. "You're better off staying away from me, Annie. Like I said before, I'm a dangerous man to be around."

"My job is to solve the mystery around Vash the Stampede," she replied while twirling her Eagles and holstering them. "Gung-Ho Guns or not, I have my job to do, and figuring you out is it, Vash." Annette smiled now, glancing to Nick who was shutting down his own weapon. "Besides, you've got us to help you."

A glance to Nick, and the older man nodded to the blonde boy. He was in, no question. "I figure I might as well stick around, give Knives some pay back for killing my father." There was that smug grin again as he pulled out a cigarette and lit the end. "Besides, you might not be so lucky the next time they show up. Best to have friends to back you up."

Well, Nicholas Thompson was proving to be a very interesting ally. He looked like his father, carried that infamous Cross Punisher, yet had the same goal as Vash; to bring justice to Knives for his horrible crimes. Maybe the three of them did have a chance if they stuck together. Annette was definitely someone he'd come to count on. Even if he didn't like the methods, she had already saved his life once, and she was someone he would like to know better anyway.

"Alright," he finally said, not turning to head out of the city. "But, don't say I didn't warn you two. We're going to be heading into the mouth of Hell by the time this is done, and we're going to need the grace of God Himself to bring Knives to true justice."

His Punisher gave a _clang_ as he hefted it up by the straps. "Well then," Nick remarked as he took one last drag and flicked the cigarette to the ground. "What say we praise the Lord and start kicking some ass in his divine name?"

Yeah, Nick definitely took after his father. Now to hope that he didn't suffer his father's fate. Vash was going to be needing all the help he could get once he went after the Gung-Ho Guns, and thusly, Millions Knives himself. This was going to be one hell of a long journey.


	7. Beneath the Skies so Clear Issue 1

Early morning, some time around eight or so. Annette was frying up some food over the fire while Vash and Nick seemed to be practicing with their firearms about ten feet away. The last week had been quite interesting, what with the few revelations about Vash she'd discovered, and Nicholas joining their little band. She'd sent a report back to Verandil stating that this was indeed the real Vash, and that she was continuing her investigations into his past. He'd been grateful for her leaving out the point that he wasn't the _original_ Vash the Stampede.

A gunshot went off, and then a scream. That sounded like Nick. "Damnit, watch it, kid! You almost shot me doing that!"

"I'm sorry!"

What now? "Don't tell me you two are trying to kill each other already?" she asked while turning. Vash was now kneeling down to pick up one of his guns while Nick was breathing heavily and clutching the side of his arm. Must have been a very near miss. "What the hell happened now?"

A accusing finger pointed to Vash. "That maniac just about shot my arm off!" Nick roared. "He starts twirling that gun of his, then drops it!"

"Hey, I said I'm sorry!" The boy weakly grinned and slipped the black automatic into its holster. "I still can't get spinning them like that right. When I'm pistol-whipping, that's a different story." Safeties on this time as he drew out both guns, tossed them in the air, and held them by the barrels, finger in the trigger rings. He quickly began whipping the two guns about as if attacking with them, holding them parallel to the ground instead of vertically.

Nick was still watching him cautiously, even with the safety switches on. "Just don't you dare try showing off like that again," he intoned while now picking up his own autos and slipping them back into the arms of the Cross Punisher. "How could you do that kind of fighting style and not be able to do a simple twirl, though?"

"It's always been like that," Vash replied. He was still practicing that rather odd form of fighting, guns held like clubs while he lashed out and spun them about. "Pops never liked how I could do this, yet I can't spin them like he does." He smiled and slipped the weapons back into their holsters again. "Guess it kind'a evens out."

Leave it to that kid to try some semblance of modesty. Really, Vash wasn't that bad a person once you got to know him, and what few bits about his predecessor he'd divulged indicated that the original Humanoid Typhoon wasn't much different. Apparently, however, the first Vash was a hopeless womanizer, chasing after almost any pretty face with a pair of legs and a set of breasts. It seemed that such was one of the traits this boy had not picked up in stride, instead being a sweet talking little hellion. He had a sugary tongue, that was for sure, and his attentions seemed firmly planted on her instead of every girl who walked by.

That didn't help those odd fantasies she'd been having at all. What the hell was in that coffee she'd chugged down back in Remnal? She'd been having the weirdest dreams about Vash ever since, and that one when they'd stopped in Greenriver had been...well, she wasn't so sure she'd wanted to wake up from that one. Thank god neither of the guys had been around, because she'd found her own hand down in her pants. Not something you can explain away easily, not after you woke up panting and covered in sweat. Dear god, did she not want to explain that one.

What was that smell? Was kind'a like...burning eggs. "Shit!" she hissed, now remembering that she was the one cooking breakfast. She quickly pulled the pan away from the fire and scooped the eggs onto a large plate before breathing with relief. A bit crispy, but hopefully she'd save the food. "Uh, breakfast is-" And now she was left blinking as Vash ran over with a dust cloud trailing behind him, those same eggs gone in an instant from the plate. Damn, he was fast. "Hey! That was supposed to be for everyone, you hog!"

"Whoops." He lazily smiled and scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, but you know how hungry I get. I'll get you guys something to eat in the next town."

That's all they needed; Vash blowing his money on them again. Come to think of it, where was he getting all this cash? Certainly, he wasn't doing odd jobs, since how does one get a job when you're moving to the next town within a day or less, and your name is "Vash the Stampede, aka, the Humanoid Typhoon"? And he wasn't knocking over any banks, that was for sure. How did he always have this money on him?

That would be something to inquire about later. Right now, though, they needed to get to the nearby town and get some real food, not to mention a nice shower. Yes, a shower sounded really good right now, after three days of tromping through the desert. That and a real bed to sleep in. That would probably work wonders after all the desert camping they'd done.

* * *

His hand was still wrapped in bandages as he bowed before the man who sat on a raised dais. "We definitely have confirmed his location," the man named Tremil stated, trying to ignore the pain in his hand. That boy was one insane marksman, having shot the voodoo doll right from his hand like that. It was only natural considering his teacher, and his traits. "He's on his way toward Old July from our calculations." A pause. No doubt, his master knew about the interference. Better to find out what his orders were in regards to those interlopers. "What shall we do about Legato and his Renegade Guns should they be encountered?"

The man, rising to stand almost six and a half feet tall, had nearly white pale blonde hair that was short cropped, icy blue eyes, and a beauty mark under his right eye. Dressed in a black and red body suit which was marked by numerous pieces of machinery, he clenched his left fist and stepped down from the dais. "Legato wishes to regain my favor," he stated while walking past Tremil. The man was still kneeling; good. He gestured for Tremil to rise and walk with him. The human did as ordered, then took his place about a step behind his master. He knew his place in the world well, that was assured. "Vash should be disgusted with what the humans did, using his blood and what remained of our sister." He paused at a large tube chamber, noting the creature that was growing inside of it. His creation, designed and bred to be a living weapon.

Those eyes flashed back to Tremil, who quickly lowered his gaze so as not to meet that of his master. "I'm surprised that this child has the gall to wander about using his name. Surly, Vash told him about me, considering I want the boy dead." A pause again as he continued down the corridor. Another large chamber, this one more resembling a medical lab than a growth area. "How goes work on the virus?"

Tremil hesitated for a moment before deciding to answer. "We have as of yet not had much success in the life time of the virus, though it is efficient enough in the original tests." He glanced over to the rows of computers that furiously calculated formulas and engineered the deadly bio-weapon that they were creating. "There seems to be an odd reaction to the DNA of Arc Angels, however," he added as they came to one set of monitors. He tapped on the keyboard to bring up the needed data. "So far, every time we apply the virus to Hybrid DNA, it seems to mutate the gene sequences to make them almost on par with a Freeborn."

His master did not look happy at that. Considering the original purpose of this virus, he would not be happy at all with the setbacks in development. "It reacts with humans as intended, however," Tremil quickly added, once more tapping the keyboard to bring up another set of data. "The mutation side-effects seemed to happen only to those with Hybrid DNA, and there's only one person on this entire planet who is an Arc Angel."

Those cold eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "Waterman," he whispered while examining the data. His work would soon be done, and the abomination that was this imposter Humanoid Typhoon would soon be dealt with. Honestly, he was surprised that Legato's own attempts had failed so badly. But, Legato was merely a human, inferior to him and those beings he created to replace the old Gung-Ho Guns. Tremil, to be sure, was also human, but he served well his purpose more so than Legato. And unlike Legato, Tremil was not the leader of the new Gung-Ho Guns. That would be one of his creations; his children.

A hand pressed against one of the monitors. "Poor Tessla," he whispered while his eyes frosted over. He'd lost the ability to shed tears, instead now creating a layer of thin ice over his eyes. "This bastard child they bred from the blood of your womb will be returned to the scum he came from, and then Vash will see that I am right." A smile now, and Millions Knives actually began to laugh. "And then, this world will become a haven for all our kind."

* * *

God, that shower felt good. Having a spare set of clean clothes would have been even better, but, since he didn't have a spare shirt, Nick settled for just his pants and sent the rest of his clothing to the wash room of the inn. He glanced at his back, noting those large scars that ran across like a large vicious creature had clawed him. Eternal reminder of that encounter with the Gung-Ho Guns.

"Nick, you done with the shower?"

That would be Vash. Coat off but still dressed in that odd dark blue body suit and those boots. Did he ever take that thing off? "It's all yours," he intoned, heading off to see if his clothes were done yet. Odd, it almost looked like Vash's eyes were glowing for a moment there. Come to think of it, he'd noticed it last time he'd seen the boy without his sunglasses on, but he'd assumed it was just a trick of the light. And since he seemed to wear those things even at night...

Definitely odd now that he thought about it. The shower was going again, meaning Vash was in there. He'd left his sunglasses out here in the room, though. Maybe he'd get a chance to see them and what they could do. Damn, those lenses were like golden mirrors; you couldn't see into them, but put the sunglasses on, and it was like having the perfect set of light filters. No wonder the kid wore these things. But how did he work them? Nick knew that Vash had to have several extras built into these things.

It could wait until later, he supposed. He was hungry, and Annette was probably finishing up her own shower before heading down to the diner for lunch. Maybe he'd join her for something to eat. Hm, a nice salad and a burger sounded good right about now.

Moments after Nick left the room, Vash walked out of the bathroom, still dressed in his body suit. "Curious I'm sure you are," he muttered before grabbing his sunglasses and heading back into the shower. Now peeling off the bodysuit, Vash slipped the sunglasses on and tapped a switch in the frames. After a moment, a tiny mic-piece flipped down into place. "Hey, pops," he said as he heard a squelch of static over the tiny speaker. "I know you don't take that comlink earring off, so just answer the phone."

"_You need to work on your manners._" Yep, that was the Old Man alright. Still a bit of a drama queen even after all these years. "_I heard about what happened to Frank. Believe me, I know you wish you could change what happened, Aaron._"

A grunt as he hopped in the shower. Good thing all the electronics in his sunglasses were waterproofed. "The person with that name died fifteen years ago, pops. I'm Vash the Stampede now, just like you said." A smirk, even though he knew his mentor couldn't see it. "Hell, they even upped the bounty because I showed up in Felnarl. I'm sure you heard all about that nightmare." He certainly remembered it. Three groups of bounty hunters had gone after him, itching for that sixty billion, only to tear the town up. Sadly, he got blamed for the whole thing, and the bounty was thus after at a hundred billion. Amazing what happens when Vash the Stampede vanished for two decades.

There was another squelch as he started scrubbing with the soap. "_Don't think that it was over with there. You know that the Gung-Ho Guns are going to be trying to hunt you down and use you to find me._" A pause as static resumed. Vash frowned. He knew well that his proverbial father had every right to be worried about that point. "_We both know why Knives tried to kill you fifteen years ago._"

He grunted. Vash had long known those reasons. A bit of shampoo, wash the hair... "I'm a freak of nature, pops. Neither human nor Plant Angel, and Knives wants me dead because I'm everything he hates." Humans becoming like Plants, a being Knives was trying at all costs to prevent from existing. Like hell he was going to pull it off. "But I'm a freak who wants to live."

There was a consenting sound from the speaker while he rinsed his hair out after a minute. "_So, how much had you told them about us?_" he asked. A fair question, and thankfully, it would have a short answer.

"Nick and Annie only know that I'm not the original," Vash explained while now shutting off the shower, stepping out, and drying off. Damn, nineteen, and he still had the body of a fifteen-year-old boy. One would expect him to be rippling after everything he'd been through, but all the muscle he had barely showed itself. At most, he was toned well, with a baby face and those bangs that made him look like a child. Never could lose that look, and he couldn't scar. It took months sometimes, but his body always healed everything _perfectly_. Never a scar or anything left behind...except those three on his face, and that was only because of what had given them to him.

Pulling the bodysuit back on, Vash ran a hand through his hair and found it went right back into that distinctive style. He couldn't help but look like a child, despite everything he did to change that. "I'm probably gonn'a need another boost in that trust fund."

A laugh now over the speaker. "_Been finding yourself a little too generous around that girl?_" came the inquiry. Vash found himself wishing he hadn't informed his predecessor about that point. "_I'll give you this, you're a smooth one, even if it is expensive. I'll have the money in your dummy account by tonight._" There was a pause again. "_So, you think you might have found someone?_"

Vash gave a snort while pulling on his coat. "As if," he stated, hands fastening the buttons of the flap. He picked up his guns, slipped them into the side holsters, then headed for the door of the room. "You couldn't even tell Meryl Stryfe how you felt about her, you expect me to be making the moves on a girl like Annie?"

"_Well, from everything you've told me about her, she's the perfect girl for you._" Now there was a laugh from the speaker. Vash wasn't sure if he should find it funny or not. "_Feisty, knows how to take care of herself, and has a taste for drinking buddies. Don't let her get away._"

Again, he snorted, now heading down the hallway to the staircase. It was bad enough he couldn't help but flirt with the woman, he didn't need the Old Man encouraging him. "Like you're one to talk," he retorted. That wince on the other end of the line made him smile. Score one for the young one. "I've gott'a go, I'll call you later when I have a chance." _Tap_. God, sometimes he wondered why he hadn't ended up a hopeless womanizer like his mentor.

Down the stairs and into the lobby, his coat furling about as he walked toward the inn's diner. He got a chill then stepped aside just before someone ended up running into him. "Sorry about that," he said as the woman blinked at him, almost as if she recognized him. She was clutching that suitcase rather tightly as well. Come to think of it, her face did spark a memory. "Have we-"

"I'm sure not," she stated while straightening the little pillbox style hat on her head. "If you'll excuse me."

Rude woman. While she walked away, Vash shook his head. Why had he gotten that chill though? She'd been holding to that suitcase a little oddly, and there was something about her that sparked a memory, but he couldn't quite recall it now.

Better to find his companions and get some lunch. Man, he was hungry already. He had enough money to last him today, and thankfully, his new supply of funds should be in his accounts by the night. Hm...they were about a day by sand steamer to Florentine. He'd wanted to treat Annette to a fancy dinner sometime. Granted, that meant following the advise of the Old Man, but at least he wasn't letting any libido do the thinking there. Okay, maybe a bit, but he didn't indend to do anything more than enjoy a nice evening with her.

Vash quickly slid into a seat while his two companions were waiting for their meals. "So, what do you guys have planned?"

Sip coffee. God, this stuff tasted bad. It was more like colored water than real coffee. "Keeping an eye on you," Annette replied bitterly. "What else am I going to do?" Where were those pancakes? She wanted to eat _now_. "Which means I should be asking you what your next destination is."

How to make this seem as natural as possible. "I'm thinking Florentine City," Vash replied while looking at the menu, then setting it down after a moment. "It's only a day or so by steamer, plus it'll give me a chance to make plans for going after the Gung-Ho Guns."

She went stiff as her food finally arrived. For a minute or so, Annette couldn't move until Nick finally tapped her shoulder. "Huh, what?"

"Food's here," he said not getting to work on eating his own meal. "There something about Florentine you're worried about?"

Had Vash really said he was going to Florentine? Her hometown, where the Verandil main office was? He might actually be...no way, he couldn't know about that restaurant, and there was no way he was thinking about treating her to that kind of meal. Sweet as he was, there was no way anyone raised by the original Vash the Stampede could be romantic. But so far, he'd defied that logic completely. Was it possible, in being raised by Vash, this boy had become someone else, something different from the Humanoid Typhoon?

"You work out of there," Vash intoned while making his order. "Don't you?" Once again, a huge meal, and on top of that, about a dozen donuts on the list. What was with this guy and donuts? It almost seemed like catnip to him. "You might know some good places to eat then."

Did he just...oh god, he really _was_ planning something! No, no, this was nuts! It was like that daydream coming true, but she didn't know what to do about it! "Uh, yeah," Annette sputtered finally while smothering her pancakes in maple syrup. "I know a few." _Calm down, calm down!_ Her heart felt like it was running at several hundred iles per hour! Shove down pancakes, trying to distract self.

And here came the donuts. "Ooh, custard!" he exclaimed before diving in. How could he sink one of those down in a single bite? "You guys want one?" he asked while holding up the plate. Nick shook his head politely while Annette tried to not pay attention to him. Vash shrugged and set the plate back on the table. "I heard there's a really nice one down there, fancy and everything, gets used a lot for graduation parties. The...I can't remember the name of it, something French I think. The Orlan...Orle-"

"The _Orleans Rouge_," Annette said, almost choking on her pancakes as she said it. Oh god, he _did_ know about that place. But there was no way he could have known that was her favorite restaurant, it had to be a lucky guess. Wait, was he reading her mind! It almost seemed like it, but how could he!

His face gave a hurt expression. "Actually, I can," he said just before gulping down another donut. "Read thoughts that is. Not very well, though. I get bits and pieces, images and maybe sounds." Hm, she was quite shocked by that revelation. Nick was showing surprise as well. They hadn't figured this out before? "My kind are telepathic to an extent, nowhere as good as a Plant Angel." He growled and rubbed his left ear. "I can still hear them, though. It's like a bunch of kids sometimes, and a bunch of angry hateful maniacs who want you dead at others." _All because of what I am._

Annette stared at him, a pancake in her mouth, then finally finished munching it down while Nick mixed a bit of egg yoke into his hash-browns and scooped the mixture up. "You lead a messed up life" the man stated after gulping the fried potatoes. "And you said 'my kind'. Care to expand on that?"

Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that point. Hm, how to really explain it. "I suppose you could say," Vash started, paused while his own food was now arriving. Seconds later, he dove into the salad and sucked it down cleanly. Then he remembered he'd been about to explain things. "You could say that I'm not exactly human in the genetic definition of the term. I share a lot in common with Plant Angels, such as incredible reflexes, speed, healing factors, and intelligence. However, unlike a Plant Angel..."

He paused to start on his burger. After a moment, munching down some fries, Vash continued. "I don't generate a lot of energy in comparison. In fact, I actually suck in energy, like a siphon. That's why I eat so much."

"To generate that energy," Nick noted while munching down more of his hash-browns. Yes, that made sense, even with his limited knowledge in science. "I'm guessing you also take energy from solar power as well."

A nod while shoving a couple of donuts down. "Ecsactly," he mumbled through his full mouth. Vash gulped down and smiled. "I'm like a power collector, storing energy from any source." Down went the last of his burger, now starting on the ribs. Dear god, this boy could _eat_. "So I always have to keep a good deal of money on me. I'm sure you've wondered where I get it." A couple of nods. Annette was looking a bit worried. "Well, I can assure you it's entirely legal." Vash grinned while cleaning off the rib bones. "My Old Man has a huge amount banked up from all the years he spent going around before the bounty went on his head. He sends me about five hundred every couple weeks or so, which is enough for my expenses."

"Except not since we started traveling together," Annette chided while finishing her pancakes. From Vash's expression, he couldn't argue that point. Score one for her. "All this buying me food and covering my costs. I appreciate the chivalry, but you have been going overboard."

That actually hurt a bit. Vash was wincing as he rubbing the back of his neck, then decided on finishing his food before even thinking of a way to reply to that one. No doubt, she'd picked up on his plan, so no use trying to make a secret of it. However, he could still try and surprise her a bit. Hm...first time trying for a romance. Might as well, it would help take his mind off his current problems.

Best make the reservations for the sand steamer after lunch. Leave tomorrow after getting breakfast, and they'd be in Florentine the next day. After that, other than treating Annie to one fancy dinner, he didn't have else much in mind, other than avoid being recognized and having someone try to get that damn bounty on his head. That and try to avoid anyone from the Gung-Ho Guns while working to track them down at the same time. Did his plans ever sound screwed up at times, even to him.


End file.
